The Mage and The Potions Master
by shedoc
Summary: Harry's summer does not start well. Then things get even worse. When you find yourself reliant on your best friend for the littelest of things, thank god he's a Weasley! AU from fifth book  rating only for some chapters
1. will to live

Disclaimer - Question - who would believe that I own these characters? Answer - only a hermit!

Timeline/Cannon/Fannon: AU from the fifth book - no Horcruxes

Warnings - torture of various characters, though not explicitly detailed. Slash. Character death at the start and eventually at the end [not that one, the other one! The one with the eyes! Oh, and Harry and Snape become friendly with each other [it will make sense when you read it… I hope…

Author notes - this is a Harry/Ron pairing - please be clear on that. Don't get halfway through and start flaming me about Harry other pairings, because it's Harry/Ron ok? PS - some of the characters might seem out of character in parts of this… ok, a lot of this… it doesn't work otherwise 

Beta's note – I have suffered!! Boy have I suffered!!

The Mage and the Potions Master

…_will to live_…

Given the look on Uncle Vernon's face, Harry thought it wise to release Hedwig at the station and tell her to meet them at Privet Drive. Mad Eye Moody's threat would work for a while, but in the meantime it had angered his uncle and Harry didn't want to run the risk that Hedwig bore the brunt of that anger. His uncle would reason that Harry himself couldn't be touched for the moment, but the threat wouldn't protect his owl. After the debacle at the Ministry Harry couldn't bear to see another innocent hurt because of him.

For a moment he thought he saw his godfathers face reflected in a store window, but Harry had been seeing flashes of Sirius from the corner of his eye ever since he had killed him and he ignored it now as a matter of fact. He knew that it wasn't normal, but reasoned bitterly that he'd never been normal and as long as he knew that the flashes were just wistful thinking on his part he wasn't in any real trouble.

The car full of Muggles was silent as they drove, something that finally registered with Harry. Even though he was a teenager Dudley was incapable of getting into a car with his parents and sitting quietly. The teen had progressed beyond whining for sweeties, though he did regress now and then, and usually moaned about wanting a new game, more money or more clothes. It was as though Dudley reasoned his parents couldn't get away from him here and used any journey as prime nagging time. Harry usually kept a mental score card of the argument, knowing that his aunt and uncle would cave in at the end, but intrigued to see how long they would hold out for each time. There was none of this today and a glance at his cousin showed the smug expression that he usually wore after he had won some concession from his over indulgent parents. Harry wondered if his aunt and uncle had capitulated on the ride over, but a glance at the front of the car showed that his aunt bore a similar smug expression and Harry realised with a shock that his uncle was practically giggly with glee.

Harry looked out of the window once more, a feeling of foreboding crashing over him. This was not the road to the house in Surrey; in fact he'd never seen these crumbling warehouses before. He knew they were still in London because they'd only been travelling for a short time, and a glance overhead showed him enough water fowl in the air to be near to the Thames, in fact probably near to one of the many wharfs he had heard about once, that dotted the industrial part of the rivers flow.

"Where are we?" Harry's demand was met with silence and he reached for his wand. Decree or not, he would defend himself however he had to. Voldemort did not play patty cake and neither could Harry afford to. If his uncle was under the Imperius curse then Harry had no chance of reasoning with him, nor would threats against Petunia and Dudley help, and hexing the man while he drove was a sure-fire way to cause an accident.

The car pulled through a slumped pair of iron gates and around the side of a large brick building, its purpose unclear. It was in fairly good repair though, and Harry sensed that it was still in use. The car pulled to a stop in an open space, but before Harry could even blink the air around it shimmered and grey robed Death Eaters appeared, casting off their disillusionment charms and pointing their wands at the car.

"Accio wand!" the command came from none other than Lucius Malfoy, and Harry's wand burst through the window beside him to be caught deftly by the patriarch of the Malfoy dynasty.

"_What have you done_?" Harry's voice reflected his betrayal. He knew that they hated him, but to be actively handed over to the Death Eaters by his family was something he'd never considered, not even in his nightmares.

"Rid my family of you once and for all, boy," Vernon gloated, "Your little reign of terror is finally over."

The door was wrenched open and Harry fought, kicking and punching, twisting desperately to free himself. He bit and clawed, spat and writhed as more and more Death Eaters surged forward to hold him down. Someone shouted the stunning spell but Harry's will to live, to escape, was such that somehow he denied its power over him, sending the red spell ricocheting away into the crowd.

"Run! Run! _They'll kill you_!" even their betrayal didn't matter in the light of what these so called superior beings would do to his Muggle relatives. The Dursley's laughed at him, and Harry caught a glimpse of Dudley straining for a better look at him as he was dragged free of the crowd and hit hard across the back of the head. Instantly his arms and legs became leaden and his vision ballooned sickeningly. Harry slumped to the ground, his voice torn from him, his spirit still screaming a terrified denial. The spell _incarcerous_ tied up the woman that cast it, and _petrificus_ made a statue of the man. Spell after spell flew at him, but none made it anywhere near him, rebounding solidly upon the caster instead. Finally someone simply conjured metal shackles and fastened his wrists tightly behind him. Feet flew into his ribs and legs, the Death Eaters kicking him savagely in retaliation for his struggles even as he curled weakly into a protective huddle. A foot thudded into his temple, darkening his vision and making his stomach lurch.

"We'll let my Lord deal with you," the high voice of Lestrange called the others off, warning them that their master would not appreciate his prize being overly damaged.

"Well then, we'll be off!" Vernon's cheerful call made Harry want to cry. Firstly because they were the words of a man who could have been a father to him, had his heart not been hardened and his mind so closed from the very moment Harry arrived on their doorstep, and secondly because it attracted the attention of the breathless Death Eaters.

"I think not," Malfoy almost panted, "After all, there are ways to extract information about our little deal today from what you laughingly refer to as your mind. There is only one way to prevent our little secret from coming completely to light. Besides, this way I don't have to actually pay you any money - not that I intended to you understand."

"What?" Vernon paled a little, his eyes dragging towards Harry almost against his will. He had thought to be rid of an unnatural burden on his family, but after the vicious display of Death Eater temper he was beginning to realise the danger he courted. Malfoy laughed and snapped Harry's wand in two, throwing the pieces on the ground in front of him. He felt the wand die, and wanted to be sick.

Harry wept silently as the Death Eaters descended upon the car. His relatives screamed for a very long time.

0o0o0o0


	2. courting death

…_courting death_…

Fawkes screeched. The sound was one of pure pain, one that cut through his listener as surely as a razor sharp knife would when wielded by a madman. Even on his Burning Day the Phoenix didn't shriek in such mortal agony. Dumbledore stumbled to his feet, hurrying to the side of his friend, his hands outstretched to help, soothe, do something, _anything_ that would alleviate the Light creatures distress.

"Fawkes!" he murmured, "What is it?"

The bird thrashed upon its perch, screeching its distress in a way that made the hair on his arms stand straight up. There was a terrible noise of something being slowly and painfully torn asunder and the headmaster of Hogwarts whirled in horror, turning to look at the picture of Harry that he kept concealed under a glamour on the corner of his desk. The boy never knew how closely he was watched, though Dumbledore had long been debating becoming more active in the child's life. With the death of his godfather Harry was more isolated than ever, and while his relatives were uncaring and at times unthinkingly cruel to him they were still a vital part of his defence. Dumbledore knew he couldn't spend time at their home, but once the wards were renewed he was debating having Harry accompany him to his summer home, a cottage set by a stream in the woods, which he had been working to make completely hidden from all eyes and therefore completely safe. Only Severus knew of its existence; he had taken the Potions Master there to recover from his brief stint in Azkaban, though Severus didn't remember the location any more as Albus had cast the Fidelius spell on the property and made Fawkes the Secret Keeper.

Harry's picture was torn down the middle, blood seeping from the edges of the paper. The picture had allowed him to keep a loose watch on the boy, the face in the frame growing as he did. It was tied to the wards, and any damage to the picture or frame indicated damage to the wards. As he watched the blood pooled upon his desk and dripped to the floor. Fawkes keened and then fell silent, panting a little and leaning into the hands that hovered around him.

"Dear Merlin," Dumbledore lifted the bird gently and frankly cuddled it to his chest, allowing it to nestle in his arms even as he crossed the room in long strides. His wand levitated to his hand and he cast the spell that would alert the Order to come to his office immediately. The wards in Surrey had been destroyed and part of him wanted to rush to Privet Drive to see what had happened to Harry; to assist the child however he could. His rational self knew that to do so alone would be courting death for them both, and managed to keep him in check long enough for others to reach his side.

Arthur and Moody were the first through the Floo and McGonagall burst through the door with Hagrid close behind only seconds later.

"The wards at Surrey have died," Albus said immediately, and was interrupted by Hagrid, whose next words were no surprise to anyone in the room. His feelings for Harry were well known to all.

"Give me a portkey," the half giant commanded, "I'll go at once."

"And me," Arthur said firmly, "Be quick Albus."

This was the response he both wanted and feared. The thought of sending his friends into danger was one that he hated and yet he wanted Harry safe at once. He was thinking not of the weapon that would one day defeat Voldemort but of the lonely orphan that was so generous with his heart. A wave of his wand and a nearby teacup had been converted. Minerva put her hand on it as well, her mouth sealed in a grim line, and Moody didn't hesitate either. Albus made sure he had firm hold on the slowly recovering Fawkes and sent them on their way.

The Phoenix in his arms sobbed softly as they materialised in the front room. The house was silent, peaceful. There was no indication of violence or even unexpected arrivals. There was an air of expectation, as if the house knew it was empty and was patiently awaiting the return of its owners.

"Harry!" Hagrid bellowed, "Where are yeh?"

"Shut it you fool," Moody hissed but was silenced by an avian shriek. Minerva turned and gasped as Hedwig battered the window, trying to gain their attention. Fawkes stirred weakly in his arms as the deputy headmistress let the snowy owl in, and Albus petted the red bird carefully. Fawkes was very close to Harry, and had monitored the wards around this house personally, visiting the house when the boy was a mere child. The Phoenix had even woven some of its own Magic into the wards, which was why their destruction had caused such a painful backlash.

"Hedwig, where is Harry?" the half giant asked urgently and she wheeled around the room, heading for the open window again. Fawkes stirred in his arms and as she glided through the aperture the Phoenix launched himself after her, both birds arrowing up into the sun and out of sight.

"They're not close by," Dumbledore reported immediately, his bond to Fawkes allowing him to trace the path of the Phoenix, though he had no control over his actions or way to recall the creature to him, "They've left the town… bearing towards London…."

Moody went to check the house quickly, limping from room to room and confirming that none of Harry's belongings had made it here. Not even Hedwig's cage was in evidence, which you would expect to find in plain sight, as that was where the teen would have been expected to keep her. Part of Dumbledore kept track of the old Auror while the rest of him concentrated on his bond.

"They're flying along the Thames…" he murmured and Minerva began wiping clean the portkey spell from the teacup, preparing it to receive a new destination. The one legged man stumped back into the room and Hagrid looked around sadly. There was no trace of Harry in this house, not even in the family photos upon the wall.

"I have it!" Dumbledore felt Fawkes pulling him urgently and hit the teacup with the required spell, "Wands out - Fawkes is in a panic."

And given that it took a lot to panic a Phoenix that was saying something.

0o0o0o0

Molly's face fell when I entered our kitchen. We had decided that I would go to answer the summons from the Headmaster, leaving her to manage our curious children. The twins had not come home with us from the train station, preferring to remain in London at their store, where they were struggling to open and promote their business, but Ron and Ginny were home of course, and so was Bill. Between the three of them they could give the twins a run for their money, and Ron was the worst of the lot. Sometimes I question the influence Harry has had on my youngest son, turning Ron from a stolid little boy to a curious and quick moving teen, one that took battles with Dark forces in his stride. Don't misunderstand me, Harry Potter was a good lad, and his friendship with Ronnie was welcome in our family, but all fathers want their children to be safe, and although Ronnie broke the rules for the benefit of the greater good I would rather he stay safe and obediently in his common room at night.

"What happened?" Bill was part of the Order, and knew that a summons had occurred. He had not been called though, and his presence would not have helped anyway. My eldest was fully grown and out making his own way in the world, but I was glad that he'd been spared the sight that met us when the portkey activated. Ron and Ginny looked up from their places at the table and Molly came to take my hand. I wondered what my face showed to get my kindly wife so anxious.

"Harry is in trouble," I murmured and Bill sighed, rolling his eyes. He had not had the same contact with Harry that we had, and tended to think of the teen as a bit of a prankster, much like his father and godfather had been, much like our twin troublemakers were. The full details of the attack at the Ministry had not been made public knowledge, though I was going to correct that soon; my oldest son would not be able to work well in the dark and Harry deserved to have all of us truly supporting him.

"What has he done now?" Bill asked with a faint grin and Ron shot his brother an angry look. My youngest boy was very sharp when it came to information about Harry, and his eyes had barely left my face since I returned.

"Shut it Bill, you don't know anything. Did the Dursley's hurt him after all, in spite of the warning?" my youngest sons anxiety was clear for all of us to see and I shook my head heavily. Minerva had been physically sick when she'd found the remains of Petunia, and a sobbing Hagrid had recovered the broken pieces of Harry's wand from the pool of the Dursley boys' blood. The wand was dead, not even reuniting the two halves would help. That was ominous, as wands were often tied into the Magic of their owners. I didn't want to contemplate what it meant that the broken wand was no longer trying to connect to Harry. After five years with the boy it would have grown quite close to him, or as close as an inanimate object that regularly channelled Magic could.

"Ron, this is hard to explain," I said softly and let Molly push me into a seat at the table, relieved when she kept hold of my hand. I was going to be having nightmares for many days to come at this rate, and it was my sweet wife who would become my anchor.

"There are no witnesses to tell us precisely what happened, but it seems that instead of going back to Surrey, the Dursley's drove Harry to a fairly deserted place in London. Death Eaters met them, and I think it was pre-planned. It is possible that Vernon Dursley was under a mild compulsion spell to ensure that he delivered Harry promptly. The Death Eaters snapped Harry's wand, killed the Dursley's and have left the scene. There is no trace of Harry. Hedwig can't find him, and nor could Fawkes. The wards at Privet Drive are no more," I thought it best not to mention the blood, the evidence of rape and torture. I could only nurture a vain hope that Harry had not been forced to watch it all.

Ronnie was pale and shaking and Ginny had tears in her eyes. My daughter was a very compassionate little thing, and sometimes I wonder if there will ever be anyone good enough for her in my eyes. The one boy that she had been madly in love with had not returned her feelings, treating her more as a sibling than a potential lover. I had to admit I was relieved; Ginny was infatuated with a false image of young Harry. If anyone in this family had the true measure of the boy it was our Ron, and I was waiting for the day that he told me he'd come to love his best friend. Their bond was very similar to the one I had with Molly; love at first sight was not common even in a world that had Magic, but the closeness they'd had from that very first meeting was so similar to the one that my wife had gifted me it could not be denied.

"Have the Ministry been informed?" Molly asked, her practical side bolstering us as always. I nodded grimly. The seasoned Witches and Wizards who had responded to Albus' alert had paled and shook as they looked over the devastation. Parts of the uncle had been …scattered and arranged in a macabre jigsaw puzzle; there were indications that he'd still been alive for most of it.

"We called the Unspeakables as soon as we realised what we were dealing with. They have documented the scene carefully. The only Magic with Harry's signature was a defensive shield of some sort and none of the recoil was aimed at his relatives. He will not be held responsible for their… deaths," I confirmed, and Molly got that look in her eye that promised we would be speaking about this in private. I would spare her the worst details, but I was not in the habit of concealing serious issues from my wife. I protected her as much as she would allow me to, and the reverse was true. It was one of the things that kept our marriage so vital.

"Are they searching for him?" Bill asked, the amusement gone from his voice. I think that he too realised there was a lot I wasn't telling them, but he had enough sense not to ask in front of the youngest. Albus would probably speak to all Order members soon, which would spare me the telling, though I would welcome my talk with Molly.

"Yes, of course," I nodded tiredly, "But there is little hope. Even a Phoenix that is well acquainted with Harry cannot locate him. The Unspeakables have little chance."

Ronnie got up at that and walked out of the kitchen, heading up to the small room he had inherited from Percy. I made a mental note to check on him soon as Molly moved to comfort Ginny. A small part of me was already braced for the news of Harry's death. The longer he was missing, the smaller his chance of survival.

0o0o0o0


	3. singled out

…_singled out…_

Severus Snape hated Harry Potter for many reasons. Well perhaps some were rather belabouring a point, and could be categorised under the same heading, but that didn't invalidate them. True there were only two real categories that the world and its nosy wife knew about but that didn't invalidate them either.

The most public of reasons was that the brat was a pale copy of his father, a man who had chosen to make Severus' time at school a misery instead of the haven it could have been. Potter had many of his fathers' characteristics, right down to the unthinking impulsive actions that courted disaster. James Potter had been a terrible mix of arrogance, immaturity, and power, and had teetered on the edge of disaster more than once, saved by undeserved luck and prudent friends.

In reality it was the boys lack of respect, subtlety, decorum and waste of what could be a fine brain if he only chose to apply himself that truly galled Snape. This small boy, and even Snape could tell there was more to that than met the eye, he was easily the smallest first year Snape had ever seen, was supposed to deliver them from the scourge of the Wizarding world, and yet refused to accept the counsel of older, wiser and more experienced Wizards and Witches.

Potions were a case in point. Anyone who knew the tale knew that Severus had picked on the boy in his very first lesson in his very first year. Snape didn't deny it; he only denied his reasons for doing so. By picking on the celebrity he had established his mastery of the class, and at the same time goaded a child he believed to be arrogant into proving himself. For two years, Harry had proven that he was a talented brewer; putting every skill he had into the potions lessons and assignments. All that had changed in his third year. The boy had simply given up and Snape had been infuriated. He knew what Harry was capable of and knew that the boys' talents were now being wasted on other things. The fact that it was only after that disastrous encounter during the ill-fated Occulmency lessons that Harry once again brewed a perfect potion, perhaps by way of apology, had infuriated him. He'd dropped the potion deliberately, only realising then what a mistake he'd made. Potions were a language he spoke perfectly and Harry had learned that, as had most of his students. That he'd destroyed an attempt to apologise, to communicate in his specialised language, had indicated that their feud was more important than their common goal.

The abduction of the boy by his 'colleagues' fuelled his hatred. He knew that Harry would not survive against so many grown practitioners of Magic, and as the weeks passed he began to expect that Harry's mutilated body would be returned to them all in the most public and demoralising way possible. The hope of the Light had been destroyed, and he could see no way to salvage him. Albus had instructed him to take the boy from the Death Eaters clutches if he was summoned, willing to sacrifice his status as spy to regain the child. Unfortunately he had not been called. His master only called him when there were potions to be brewed and turning up uninvited was tantamount to screaming '_Hello, I am a spy_' in the Dark Lords face.

Theirs was a complex 'relationship'. For some reason early on, Snape had been set apart from the Death Eaters by Voldemort, singled out for special treatment. He had participated in the revels and attacks at first - he had to earn his position after all - but towards the end, Voldemort had held him back from such things, preferring to summon him when the other Death Eaters were not present. The Dark Lord would talk to Severus, mainly about the various Dark Rites that they were both students of. Severus became a researcher and fellow dabbler; though Voldemort refused to allow him to undergo any of the Rites they researched. Snape was almost a pet, just as Nagini was, and because his knowledge of the Dark was so comprehensive Voldemort preferred to keep him close by and under watch. His position as a Master of Potions was also valuable, as most of the Death Eaters couldn't brew a simple hair growth potion, let alone match his genius at the cauldron. Voldemort had him brew some of the most challenging potions he'd ever heard of, and that had kept him interested long after he had begun to realise his mistake. As a Master Occulmens, Snape had managed to keep his secret; Voldemort didn't open his mind to anyone and had decreed that Snape do the same, though he did sometimes insist on scanning Snape, who was skilled enough to seem completely open while concealing several key facts.

Since his resurrection, Voldemort had been increasingly unpredictable, and Snape had found himself walking a very fine line with the Dark Lord. He was still treated as something of a pet, and often found himself seated at his masters' feet, while a skeletal hand stroked his hair and his fellow Death Eaters knelt around them to receive their orders. Voldemort would ask his opinion - in reality he was ordering Snape to agree with him - and praise or condemn others on Snape's 'word'.

That he had to abase himself in such a manner because his master had not died when the baby Potter had rebounded that Killing Curse, that the boy had in fact allowed himself to be taken and used to restore his master to a body, was another complex reason for Snape's hatred.

0o0o0o0


	4. closest to the source

… _closest to the source…_

Ron looked up from his pile of books as his mother put a sandwich and glass of lemonade on his small rickety desk. Over the last three weeks Molly had become quieter, sadder, and it broke Ron's heart to see it. Harry was uppermost in all their thoughts, and Ron had endured several nightmares dealing with his best mates current situation. He knew Harry was alive, the knowledge instinctual, unshakeable. While hope faded in his parents' eyes every day, Ron knew without a doubt that Harry was still with them, and that meant he'd be back. After all Harry had been through, Ron knew the green-eyed teen would be fighting tooth and nail to return to them all. It was the way Harry worked.

"Thanks mum," he murmured and won a small smile from her.

"What are you reading now?" she asked, and Ron shrugged, looking down at the spell book in his hands. He had decided that he needed to know more about defence and offence when it came to Magic. Harry needed to know that the people backing him up could take care of themselves, and Harry, if needed. Ron felt he hadn't made a very good show of it at the Ministry, and was determined to be better prepared next time.

He was stuck reading the theory at the moment, but that was ok because he always practiced better when Harry was around anyway. They were sparring mates, and had a knack for explaining to the other why the spells they were trying to learn were being miscast. Hermione said that sometimes it was as if they spoke their own private language, because comments that seemed totally random to her resulted in a vast improvement in the casting of whoever had received the advice.

"Just one of my defence books," he reached for a sandwich and took a bite, though his appetite had been less lately, "I wanted to brush up on my theory."

His mum looked sad. He knew that his parents were losing hope with every day that passed and there was no word of Harry's location or even if he was alive. Ron knew the truth of the matter but also knew that to insist upon Harry's continued existence to others would get him a lot of arguments and attempts to talk him out of his certainty. He didn't want to get into arguments with his family, so he kept quiet on the matter, letting them doubt the friend that he had absolute faith in.

Harry would be back. He wouldn't let them down. He wouldn't leave Ron alone. It was as simple as that.

0o0o0o0

Hermione smiled up at Ron as the portkey deposited her in a heap on the ground. He laughed and swung a hand out, hauling her up and picking up the bags that had landed neatly beside her. He'd grown again in the short time they'd been apart, and would easily have dwarfed Harry… she shook herself from her thoughts as Ron spoke.

"You're in Ginny's room again," his voice had a hint of strain to it, as did the set of his mouth and the shadows in his eyes. Ron talked a good game, but no matter how certain he was that Harry was still alive the uncertainty had to be wearing on him as it was on them all.

They paused for the Weasley's to say hello and Ron dumped her things at the foot of the second bed installed in Ginny's room. They both knew better than to stay upstairs - that would spark all sorts of rumours and Hermione just didn't need the aggravation at the moment. Ron led her outside into the garden and they sprawled in the shade of the hedge, or rather he sprawled and Hermione curled up comfortably.

"Any word?" Ron was of course closest to the source of information, what with so many of his family members in the Order.

"No," Ron sighed, "And I'm starting to worry a little. I mean I know he's fighting to come back to us, I know that ok? I'm not giving up…"

"You're worried what condition he'll be in when he does get back," Hermione voiced their common fear softly, "Because the longer they have him the more they can hurt him."

"Yeah," Ron looked guilty for even thinking such things but Hermione knew they had to be realistic. She had no doubt that the Death Eaters and their 'master' were doing every horrible thing they could think of to Harry.

"We'll just have to deal with it when we get him back, Ron," Hermione said firmly, trying to bolster them both with her words. She was beginning to doubt that Harry would ever come back to them at all, but she knew better than to mention that to Ron right now. He would not be able to tolerate any mention of Harry not coming back at the moment.

"Yeah," Ron smiled over at her crookedly, a hint of self-loathing on his face. After the debacle of the Tri-Wizard Tournament any doubts Ron had about the value Harry placed upon his friendship with the redhead had died. Ron was the thing that Harry would miss most, even after that ridiculous argument before the First Task. It had hurt Hermione a little not to be chosen as Harry's hostage, but she knew herself well enough to recognise that was just her ego talking.

"So what spells are you working on?" the question surprised her a little. Though she had suggested that they work hard reviewing defence spells she hadn't expected Ron to be quite so enthusiastic about it, given his usual attitude to school work.

"I'm working on Gueydan's fifth principal of defensive wards at the moment," Hermione replied, couching the words almost as a test.

"Oh, the ones that link in so well with offensive spells," Ron nodded, "I looked at them but they're not very mobile, and I think I'd need a bit of peace and quiet to erect them. Not something we're likely to get on the run."

"Yes but we need to be able to establish a safe area to recoup and recover in," Hermione argued, delighted that her friend knew what she was talking about for a change. Ron rolled onto one elbow and started arguing with her, debating the spells usefulness and scenarios in which they would be able to use it. For Hermione this sort of verbal debate was just like chess for Ron, and she loved it, giving herself over to the debate whole heartedly.

A small part of her was sad that it had taken the abduction of their best friend to get Ron to finally develop a love of learning.

0o0o0o0


	5. at his finest

…_at his finest…_

"Master," Severus knelt smoothly, bowing so his forehead brushed the floor and staying in that posture until a skeletal hand pushed back his hood and raised him upright. His master's inhuman eyes glittered at him brightly and cold fingers plucked his mask from his face. He caught it as it was dropped and stored it in his pocket neatly, pretending not to notice the approving gleam in Voldemort's eyes as his pet demonstrated a trick.

"Severus," Voldemort purred, "My Severus, I have much for you to do."

"I live to serve," Snape murmured softly, "How can I best serve you my master?"

It was moments like this, walking a fine line between subservient, and self-confident, that Snape felt he was at his finest. The Wizard in front of him had never once suspected his loyalties, though Snape never allowed himself to become complaisant about that little fact.

"I have a potion for you to brew, one of the Darkest I have come across in a while," Voldemort replied softly, "A treat for my spy who has waited so patiently."

"You are good to me my Lord," Severus dipped his eyes as demurely as a girl flirting with her lover, and felt the chill flesh caress his cheek in approval. He rose to his feet at the subtlest of tugs, something that he knew would please his master - Voldemort appreciated subtlety in his followers as long as it was not aimed against his will.

"It has several unusual ingredients," Voldemort led the way, and Snape moved into the position that would appease the Wizard in front of him. They swept through the narrow corridors of the crumbling Riddle Mansion, robes billowing, heading for a small room on the ground floor that had once been a fine front parlour as Voldemort detailed the potion that would give a measure of temporary immunity to harmful Magic to anyone who drank it. Snape wondered what had prompted his master to search out such as thing as he was ushered into the room where he brewed whenever his Master summoned him; something about the action of brewing a potion in that room amusing the twisted Voldemort no end. Doubtless it was a dig at some old family tradition or use of the room, Snape didn't allow himself to wonder about it too closely.

"Of course, the last component, blood of an enemy, is conveniently on hand," Voldemort stalked into the parlour and gestured peremptorily for Snape to look over the recipe on the sideboard, a single parchment placed neatly beside the ingredients he would need.

"The Wizarding world has trembled for weeks at the thought of the Brat-Who-Was-Lucky's fate," Severus sneered lightly, "My former student would have been no match for your power, my Master."

The temperature in the room dropped several degrees, and Snape wondered what the bloody hell he'd said to garner _that_ reaction from the barely human entity pacing before him. Hints that Voldemort was a powerful and highly impressive Wizard were usually well received. Snape was always careful not to hint through tone or look that they were merely attempts to appease his spurious master, lest the man react just as he was now.

"You would think that wouldn't you?" Voldemort hissed, "And yet he still lives. Dumbledore has placed some charm upon him to withstand all magical attacks, though once the boy is sufficiently exhausted he becomes vulnerable to physical attack. His Magic heals him given enough time however, and I have had several very entertaining sessions of torture with him. It is his blood we will be using, gathered fresh for the potion."

Voldemort's frustration and anger was both a fearful and wonderful thing. Fearful in that he could at any moment direct his anger at Snape to relieve his frustrations, wonderful in that the icon of the Light still lived, though Snape doubted the boy was in any kind of decent shape. The Death Eaters were not fond of being shown up and if Harry Potter were protected by a charm that was deflecting their magical attacks, reducing them to the indignity of Muggle methods, they would be very vicious indeed.

Snape read through the potions directions carefully and then checked that he would have everything he needed on hand. Once he was certain that he was ready he began brewing, taking his time and double-checking as necessary. This was a particularly complex potion with several charms that would alter the substance in his cauldron ever so subtly from its pure form. If Lord Voldemort was still in the room Snape ceased to notice, his whole attention going to his work. This was what was expected of him, anything less could result in painful punishment.

He stepped back to let it simmer, ready for the final ingredient and looked up. Voldemort was seated to one side, watching him with a small smile. It was late afternoon, and he had been in the Dark Lords presence for eight hours. He would likely be in his presence for quite a few more, and as a result would be an enervated wreck when he returned to Hogwarts. The sheer mental discipline required to maintain the proper façade was draining, though he perversely enjoyed the challenge.

"You are a joy to watch," the snake-like creature murmured, "A true artist my Severus."

"You are too kind my Lord," Severus bowed deeply, "In five more minutes it will be ready for the blood."

"Malfoy is harvesting it as we speak," Voldemort got up and glided to the cauldron, inspecting the contents without disturbing them, "A flawless brew, as always. Did you enjoy your challenge?"

"I did, my master," Severus replied, no less than the truth. The challenge of such a complex and Dark brewing was one that he relished. Quite naturally, Dumbledore didn't ask him to perform such difficult tasks, and the purpose of a Dark Potion was to be used. Brewing it for the sake of doing so was wasteful and dangerous, not to mention hideously expensive.

The door opened and Snape turned, recognising the form of Lucius Malfoy despite the mask and hood he still wore and voluminous robes. It seemed the patriarch of the Malfoy family was out of favour once again, and Snape wondered gleefully what he had done. Malfoy was a dangerous man, and anything that kept him out of Voldemort's good books was a cause for celebration, especially if Snape didn't have a hand in it. Political manipulation was not beyond his skills, but he preferred to have others display their stupidity without his help.

"Do you have the blood?" Voldemort didn't even use Malfoy's name, another sign of extreme disfavour, and Snape watched impassively as an elegant, pale hand retrieved the crystal vial from inside the robes. He took it without comment, turning back to the potion for the final stage. Seven drops of blood, added one per second after seven minutes of simmering, and the potion would be done. He'd had no chance to sabotage it, not with Voldemort supervising him so directly, and would have to hope that the effects were short term only.

Snape tapped the vial precisely seven times and then stepped back, replacing the stopper. The potion glowed as it was meant to and then congealed into a useless black sludge. Snape felt as if his intestines were also congealing. This was not supposed to happen, and as brewer the blame would be placed squarely on his shoulders.

"Severussssss!" the angry hiss had him cringing slightly, and inspecting the blood carefully for taints or other unusual components. The potion had been perfect until the blood entered it…

"This is stale blood, several days old. The potion requires fresh, no more than an hour between harvest and use," he stammered, knowing better than to lay the blame upon Malfoy no matter how much it wasn't his fault, "Forgive me my Lord, I didn't check it."

"Crucio!" the spell tore through him, dropping him to the floor where he gasped and bore it silently as the Dark Lord had come to expect of him, though it was only held for a moment. The curse was repeated and held for much longer on Malfoy. Snape dragged himself to his knees and waited for the next development.

"You can brew it again," the demand was cold and the threat clear. A hurried glance at the ingredients showed he could not and he braced himself for more pain. Things were getting worse by the second, though at least he hadn't just handed Voldemort a potent weapon.

"I do not have enough moonsong," he kept his tone as factual and respectful as possible, "With three more ounces I could brew a quarter batch."

Moonsong was notoriously difficult to obtain. He didn't know where Voldemort had gotten this batch, but hoped that it was some obscure place that took days to contact. It would give him time to research a way to pervert the potion, weakening it without being caught. This was a greater challenge than brewing it in the first place and one that he relished. He had eidetic memory, an essential tool for any spy, and would be able to recreate the potion in note form upon his return to Albus, or mentally edit it if he had no opportunity to leave before being required to brew again.

"Wormtail!" the roar resounded through the house and in moments the cowardly rat was cringing in their presence. He was dispatched in short order for more moonsong, and Voldemort turned to glare at Snape.

"A stasis spell would preserve the boys blood?" the answer was provided with the question, and Snape nodded in confirmation, not daring to add extra words when Voldemort was using _that_ particular tone, "Then you will come and harvest what we need, and Malfoy will attend; you will see how it should be done by any _competent_ Wizard."

That last comment was aimed at his former schoolmate, and Snape watched dispassionately as the man dragged himself to his feet. Malfoy hated getting his hands dirty and would have seen the task of blood gathering beneath him. He'd always been more of a dabbler than devotee of the Dark, unwilling to sully his precious hands, hence his error. He wanted power, but luckily for the Wizarding world was unwilling to expend the blood sweat and tears, not to mention other bodily fluids, needed to garner the power that Voldemort wielded.

It was with well-concealed eagerness that Snape followed the Dark Lord towards the earthly remains of Harry Potter. The Potions Master held out no hope that the boy would still be whole or even sane, but knew that this would be an important visit if he were to ever assist Dumbledore in rescuing their Icon.

0o0o0o0


	6. avada kedavra

…_avada kedavra…_

The corridor that Snape was led down was cold and damp. They had descended into the lower most levels of the house - apparently the Mansion had two sub levels and their prisoner was kept far from the reaches of daylight. The boy was stored in a small room at the end of the narrow passage, the stone floor as gritty and pitted as the flagstones outside were smooth and polished. Light came from a small globe floating near the ceiling, conjured by Voldemort himself; it was cold and stark and banished all shadows with clinical precision.

The moment the door opened there had been a sickening moan, and then a rough slithering noise. Malfoy had been at Voldemort's heels the whole way down, following along like an obedient and thoroughly chastised minion should. In fact the patriarch of the House of Malfoy had practically been called to heel, and Snape had fallen in behind him gloating silently, taking mean satisfaction in this proof of his seniority among the Death Eaters. His master only unmasked and named those he favoured, all others were granted uniform obscurity behind their masks. Snape was recalled to the present by another pain filled moan, and had to wait for his former classmate to step aside so he could see into the room. It took every ounce of self-control not to react the wrong way to the sight that greeted him.

Harry Potter was dragging himself, painfully, inch by agonising inch towards the door. Snape realised that the moment the door had opened the naked and filthy boy had begun to move towards it; trying to leave the room he was being stored in. His arms and legs were crisscrossed with slashes and welts; there was not an unmarked inch of skin on his body. His face was almost unrecognisable beneath the swollen abrasions and burns, and the way his limbs were twisted spoke of multiple breaks and sprains. From the fixedness of his gaze, Snape realised that the glazed green eyes were blind. Each movement brought a pained noise from the broken child, and yet he still struggled forward, dragging his broken body along so valiantly towards the empty promise of escape.

"Three weeks in my care and he still attempts to escape," there was a faint tone in Voldemort's voice that might have been a twisted version of respect, "As you can see my Severus, he still lives despite the damage my Death Eaters have done to him."

"Indeed," Snape forced his voice to be perfectly level and calm, to not reflect the horror and pity he felt for his enemies son. In that single defining moment Snape realised the nature of Harry Potter. He would not give up, he would not bow to Darkness, and he would never give way. He would strive to achieve his goal, no matter the cost, the pain or deprivation it caused him. He was everything Light, and Snape was lucky to have known him, no matter what their relationship had been in daily life. He was everything Voldemort wanted to be and never would achieve; yet he had never sought to become all that he was, rather he simply wanted to live his life in peace; a wish he held for those around him.

"Have you managed to defile the boy yet?" Voldemort's cold fury drew Snape from his epiphany and he felt bile rise in his throat at the thought of this child living with the after effects of rape.

"No my Lord," Malfoy cringed, "The lust potions did not work either."

Voldemort hissed in dissatisfaction, and turned to Snape, who managed to project only mild curiosity. Harry wasn't even a quarter of the way across the room, and still he struggled slowly forward, stifling his small cries of pain as best he could. The mindless effort was heartbreaking. Snape doubted that there was any intelligence behind it, simply some vestigial instinct prompting him to escape.

"The charm has prevented anyone with carnal intent approaching the boy. Their inability to … perform has prevented us from breaking him completely," Voldemort explained, "I personally brewed one of the most powerful aphrodisiac potions known and Malfoy here was still unable to defile him. This has been just one in a long list of failures of late."

Snape nodded to show that he understood and stood perfectly still under his masters gaze. Voldemort gave a small smile, chilling in its understanding.

"Unnerving, isn't it my Severus, the way he struggles forward, knowing there is no escape, no help or relief to be found."

"Yes," the simple reply was honest, his tone conveying respectful agreement with his 'master', masking his true feelings. There were tears in Snape's future, bitter ones shed in the presence of the one man who would understand everything he was feeling at this moment as only Albus could.

"We need to harvest his blood, but first I think you should have a reward, my Severus," Voldemort turned cold eyes on Malfoy, who straightened, anticipating the pain to come, "Malfoy, you will cast a variety of curses and hexes upon the boy, but none of the Unforgivables. Those that tried Imperious were hard pressed to remember their own names afterwards, and Cruciatus is useless, they cannot hold the spell long enough to wear the shield down."

The last comments were directed to Snape, who moved to kneel next to the chair that Voldemort had conjured and was settling himself into. He couldn't imagine what sort of charm or spell would allow Harry to reflect Magic back upon the caster indiscriminately, let alone one that could withstand the pain curse. He certainly didn't know of one that would act to preserve his virtue. He was thankful that there was one though.

He watched, his head bent, as Malfoy cast hex after curse, staggering under their impact as an almost visible shield fluctuated around the wasted form on the ground. Severus had already spotted the small pool of blood that Malfoy had collected his sample from, the tell tale smears confirming his deduction. Harry jerked with each impact on the shield, his futile attempts to reach the door halted by the sustained attack. When Malfoy was panting with pain and bloodied by his own curses Voldemort called a halt and Snape was instructed to secure his specimen. He conjured a knife so sharp the small cut would not be felt and watched in fascination as it healed itself the moment he pulled the vial away from the v-shaped nick in the boys painfully thin wrist. Voldemort chuckled at him, an indulgent sound that made his skin crawl.

"The spell, my Severus," Voldemort purred and Snape stood, cast the stasis spell and placed the vial with a deep bow into the outstretched hand so his master could check that he had not miscast the spell. At the wave of a pale hand he knelt again, allowing the cold hand of the Dark creature in front of him to caress his hair, in the manner of a man and his favoured pet.

"You are sure that the spell will not alter the blood's effectiveness?" Voldemort murmured and Severus nodded without rising. He had perfected the art of this action, and felt an approving caress that turned his stomach. If nothing else, his days as a spy were sharply numbered; he was rapidly being consumed with a burning need to remove Harry from this place and see Voldemort destroyed no matter the cost to him.

"I have used it several times with no ill effect my master," his voice betrayed nothing of his thoughts, a skill he had long since mastered.

"Then I wish to conduct an experiment," Voldemort murmured, returning the crystal vial of blood, "And you have a potion to prepare, my Severus."

It was a dismissal and Snape straightened to his feet immediately. As he moved towards the door, wondering if Pettigrew had managed to secure a supply of moonsong he heard the Dark Lord instruct Malfoy to cast Avada Kedavra. There was a moments hesitation, after all the boy had managed to deflect the other Unforgivables and if he could manage this one as well then the caster was assuredly dead, then Malfoy's voice rang clearly through the air of the small prison. Snape was just at the door and turned, unwilling to let the final moments of Harry Potter's life go unwitnessed. No mere charm would be able to withstand…

The impact on the shield was like an explosion and the recoil killed Malfoy instantly, blasting Voldemort backwards from his conjured chair as Harry howled in mindless rage. The Dark Lord impacted the subterranean stone wall and went straight through it, and by the sounds of it through several feet of dirt and rock as well. Snape was only on the edge of the blast and thrown painfully against the doorjamb. The corridor roof collapsed and the boy on the floor fell still, panting harshly for breath.

Something in his hip was probably broken, but Snape wasted no time in converting the vial of blood into a portkey, the blood acting as a catalyst that would get them through the wards here at the mansion and at Hogwarts, crawling across the floor to the wasted form and reaching out to gently brush matted hair back from sightless eyes.

"Harry," he whispered, "It's Snape."

Part of him was laughing hysterically, wondering scathingly what sort of comfort the boy was expected to find in the presence of a hated teacher, but he had no time for internal debate, gathering Harry carefully into his arms, shushing under his breath in a useless attempt to comfort the boy even as he inflicted more pain. It couldn't be helped; he had to hold him close to activate the portkey. A thin hand, its fingers broken and then healed painfully crooked, caught hold of his arm, and Snape hissed as his Dark Mark was squeezed roughly. Something heated beneath his skin, became liquid and dribbled down his hand to pool on the rough stone floor. It formed the shape of his Mark for a moment and then seeped into the floor, radiating Dark Magic. The hand holding his arm squeezed as if comforting him for the loss.

Snape didn't wait to see what this wholly unexpected and theoretically impossible cleansing ritual would do, activating the portkey at once, blessing Merlin's name and grateful that port keys formed with Blood and an emergency incantation overrode every form of shield, ward and protection known to Wizard-kind.

0o0o0o0


	7. safe with me

…_safe with me…_

Fawkes screeched, a sound that Albus had never wanted to hear again, especially after last time. He looked up from the useless paperwork that was completely failing to distract him from the plight of his Potions Master and the Boy Who Lived and saw the Phoenix launch itself from its perch, fluttering to the ground in front of his desk; making the most distressed noises he'd ever had the misfortune to hear. Albus leapt to his feet to see what was upsetting Fawkes so and very nearly fell over his desk in his haste to get to the two bodies on the floor.

"Severus!" his heart nearly seized and seconds later he recognised the form his protégé was wrapped around. Harry Potter looked on the verge of death, every inch of his body marked and horribly damaged.

"Dear Merlin," Albus dropped to his knees, heedless of aging bones and brittle joints, "Oh my dear child what have they done?"

He pulled his wand out, only to have Severus' hand snap up and pull it from him. He allowed it, taking in the warning in the glittering black eyes and trusting them, even before Severus could explain his actions.

"No spells," Severus could barely be heard over the unnerving sound of Fawkes keening, "Not until you've disabled his shield charm. Whatever you did for him worked, Albus, they haven't touched him with Magic at all… though their fists were more than enough."

"I've cast no shield charm," Albus frowned, his hands stroking the matted hair of the wounded child as lightly as he could. Severus was making no effort to let go of his student, and from the man's pale complexion and jerky breathing Albus thought he was also hurt. The Phoenix swept into the air and circled the room wildly, his flight dipping erratically.

Harry moaned softly, and stirred in Severus' arms. Albus bent double over the boy, adding his voice to Severus' as they tried to soothe him, tried to tell him he was safe. Fawkes circled about once more and dove for them, his claws latching onto Severus and Albus, his tail fanned over Harry's body.

There was a flash of fire and his study melted away, becoming instead the bed in his spare room, the forest outside confirming that Fawkes had taken them to his summer home. Severus was balanced on the edge of the bed; his face suddenly tight with pain and Albus was only kept from falling by his familiar. He rapidly got his feet underneath him and then retrieved his wand from Severus, casting the strongest healing charm he could over his protégé.

A soft sigh and the Potion Master was moving smoothly, colour stealing into pale cheeks as he slid off the bed, carefully removing his arms from around Harry's abused form.

"No," the boy on the bed moaned and Fawkes crooned softly. The Phoenix fluttered onto the bed and caressed Harry with his beak, crooning all the while.

"We're at my summer home," Albus said hurriedly, "The lab is still here, and with all of the potions you brewed for me. But first Severus, your Mark? Is he punishing you?"

The healing spell would help with that for only a short time before Snape became wracked with incredible pain. Despite all his research he had been unable to find a way to remove the Mark without the consent of Voldemort, and Albus knew that would never be granted. By stealing away the Dark Lord's prisoner, Severus had made himself a target for the rest of his life, which would probably be measured in days. Unending agony would send him screaming to his death, and Albus was already bracing himself.

"Its gone Albus," Severus tore the grey robes off, pitching them violently into a corner of the room and rolling up the sleeve of his left arm. The grinning skull and snake were gone, replaced instead with a small Phoenix, one that was fading slowly even as they watched, "He grabbed my arm and the Mark just… dribbled out from my skin… I cannot explain it…"

On the bed Harry moaned, breaking the stumbling recount and Severus turned and fairly ran from the room, heading for the lab that Albus had created for him after his short stay in Azkaban. He had brewed until he collapsed, and placed stasis spells on his work before returning to the rest of the world with Albus. The elderly Wizard knew that many of the potions they needed would soon be on hand and returned to Harry's side.

"Hush my dearest child, Severus is getting the medicines that will help you," he crooned, stroking filthy hair carefully, "You're safe now Harry, safe with me and Severus. Fawkes is here too…"

Albus trailed off as the moans faded and Harry's eyes opened. Their blank gaze tore at his heart, but Harry turned his head as if to look at him anyway. Who knew what other damage there was lurking beneath the filth and blood on the emaciated body.

"Hhhhhhh… hhhhheh…"

"It's Albus Harry, shush… try not to speak," the attempt at his title had tears filling his eyes. Harry swallowed painfully and lifted a hand, searching. Albus caught the shaking hand lightly between his own and then bent, pressing his face to Harry's broken fingers. Harry sighed and stilled, his fingers flexing lightly Albus' beard. Quick steps heralded the return of Snape, who paused for a mere second before bending over Harry from the other side of the bed.

"Harry, I must give you several potions," Severus spoke quietly, as if he didn't expect the boy to understand him, "It will hurt to be lifted and I am sorrier than I can say, but you need these now."

"Ssssssssss…" Harry panted and then tried again, producing a sound that had Severus gaping in astonishment, "Ssssnnnnnnn…"

"Yes Harry, that is Severus," Albus confirmed, "If I lift you, will you let him give you the potions?"

"Mmm," the sound was vaguely affirmative and Albus inched his arms carefully under the wasted and broken body, lifting as smoothly as he could and shushing uselessly as Harry moaned at the inevitable pain.

"Pain relief," Severus murmured and fed it to the boy in Albus arms, then proceeded to name each potion that followed: blood replenisher, skele-grow, strengthening solution, nourishment tincture, and many more. He announced the last one and then helped Albus lay the boy down again.

"Nnnn?" it was clearly a question, but Albus couldn't understand it. Before he could reply Harry wilted into sleep.

"Salazar's balls," Severus breathed, "He understood you! Albus, after what I saw in that little room, I was sure that his mind…" he voice broke and he bowed his head. Albus hurried around the bed, wrapping the silently weeping man in his arms. He wondered if Severus would ever be able to tell him exactly what had happened, but knew better than to ask right now.

Right now they had far too much to do if they were to help Harry.

0o0o0o0


	8. i'm here mate

…_I'm here mate…_

I sighed as I cautiously approached the teen swinging a gnome with vicious authority over his head. It was going on for four weeks since He Who Shall Not Be Named had taken Harry Potter, and all hope was gone. To survive that long in the madman's clutches would be impossible for an adult, let alone the small and slender teen my son called his best mate. Ron's eruption of temper was inevitable and George had borne the unfortunate brunt of it. As I got closer I could see the grazed and slightly swollen knuckles on Ronnie's right hand - it seemed my youngest knew how to throw a good punch.

Fred was beside himself with worry, though it was only a bruised and swollen jaw, injured pride and a faint headache that his twin suffered from. George was the level headed of the two, reacting to Fred's illnesses and injuries calmly enough though you couldn't get them apart for love or money. Fred was much more highly strung, he tended to panic and then fret when George was ill or hurt, and neither Molly or I could work out why. There had been no neglect of our children; each scrape and sniffle was quickly assessed and then dealt with as needed, and such had been the case for all of our children.

The twins had merely been saying what we all felt, but Ronnie would have none of it, and had gotten in a shouting match with our twins that had led to blows. He had left us all stunned, storming from the house to de-gnome the garden. Even Hermione Granger wouldn't go near him, and when my youngest turned to glare at me I could see why. Ronnie looked fit to kill, and my heart went out to him.

"Ronnie," I made my voice as calm as possible, "You must understand…"

"_No_," the cold whisper made my hair stand on end, "_You_ must understand. Harry never gives up and neither will I. He's out there right now, fighting to get back to us, and excuse me if I decide _not_ to bury him and get on with my life. He's _alive_ dad, he's alive and hurting. I won't betray him by doubting that he'll be back as soon as he can. So you understand this: think what you like, say what you like, but _don't_ expect me to bury Harry until he's actually dead."

Ronnie turned and grabbed another pair of gnomes deftly and I took a deep breath, relieved to have his burning gaze off me. That he completely believed in Harry's continued existence was undoubtedly clear. There was nothing that I could say or do to persuade him otherwise, and it came to me that I shouldn't be trying to. Harry Potter was something of a mystery to me. I didn't know him that well, beyond the legend and the small glimpses I'd had of him in his short stays at our home. Even Hermione Granger didn't know the famous teen as well as our Ron did, she had slowly given up hope over the last week, even as Ron squared his shoulders and soldiered on alone.

There was one thing I did know, no good would come of Ronnie being forced to give up on his friend, and Harry deserved to have someone who believed in him, for all the good it would do. Ronnie wasn't my little boy any more, in front of me was a young man on the verge of realising his own place in the world, deserving of respect and support, not derision and babying.

"Alright Ronnie," I said the words softly as a trio of gnomes went flying over our hedge, "I won't try to talk you out of this. You do what you believe best, and I'll talk to the family about letting you be."

"Thank you," the words were muffled and I patted a tense shoulder, heading back into the house. The family were gathered with teacups around the table, sweet Molly's answer to everything. Fred was wrapped around George, holding a cold cloth to his jaw and also holding him upright, though from George's glance at me he wasn't in need of coddling to this extent. Ginny and Hermione were close together, eyes red. Molly was at the head of the table in her rightful place, Bill sitting beside her looking grave.

"Well?" Fred's voice was vicious, and I straightened out of my usual slouch, pinning my son with the glare of a father laying down the law. I didn't do this often, preferring to let my family settle things among themselves as they got older, but if left to Fred there would be another row, and possibly a split in the family. I let Percy go in anger, it would not happen again if I could prevent it.

"I've spoken to Ron, and now I'm speaking to all of you. Ron is not giving up on Harry, and none of us will ask him to. No matter how dire things seem right now, Ron has faith in Harry and it would be wrong of us to try and destroy that faith. _If_ there comes a time when we know for a fact that Harry is dead, then we'll deal with it, but I will _not_ have this family torn apart by strife over such a thing. Ron has his reasons and I won't dispute his right to believe in his friend. Neither will any of you."

Molly bit her lip but nodded in agreement which was half the battle won. My sweet wife didn't hold with allowing her children to take flights of fancy, and Ron's belief in Harry could so easily have been labelled as such. Bill nodded after a moment and Ginny actually gulped.

"I can go along with that," George mumbled, "So can Fred."

The look he gave his twin promised me that they would sort things out between them and then probably prank Ron for a while in retaliation for the blow. I had no worries that Ronnie would bear this patiently, seeing it as a sort of penance; his mind worked in strange ways sometimes, something that he shared with young Harry. Molly got up and made me a cup of tea and I settled into my usual chair to drink it, looking out through the windows as Ron threw yet another pair of gnomes over our hedge.

There was a flash that had everyone's wand out and pointing at a corner of the kitchen, and Severus Snape appeared with Fawkes clutching his collar. The Order's spy was dishevelled, his robes creased and the cuff of his left sleeve unbuttoned and flapping. This was strange, he usually concealed the Mark from prying eyes, but I was distracted by the expression on his face. He was haggard, paler than usual and dark smudges lurked under his glittering eyes.

"Where is Ronald?" Snape's voice was urgent, his eyes flicking over us quickly. If I didn't know better I would have said that he wasn't completely with us, his eyes looking past us to whatever situation he had just left behind. This was so unusual it was almost frightening, Severus was always grounded in the immediate present, only rarely did he contemplate the past, and even more rarely still did he plot the future in the presence of others.

"In the garden," Molly's voice quavered and Fawkes disappeared out the window, calling urgently, "Severus what happened?"

Ron pelted noisily into the kitchen, skidding to a halt and fixing his eyes on Severus. Though he was replying to Molly, our spy's words were directed to our Ron.

"Four days ago I was fortunate enough to assist Harry in his escape from the Dark Lord. He's asking for you."

Our kitchen erupted into a storm of words as we all reacted to this joyful news. Once again Harry had proven us all wrong, something that I was grateful for. The twins were trying to apologise to Ron, and Molly was firing questions at Snape, but it was Ronnie who silenced us all by stepping over to Severus, his eyes never leaving the other man's.

"I'm ready to go," my son murmured and allowed Severus to wrap his arms around him as Fawkes once more grasped his collar. Before we could do more than draw breath the Phoenix had taken them from our kitchen, leaving us to wonder and worry as best we could.

0o0o0o0

The hardest thing Ron had ever done had been to cling to the knowledge that Harry was alive. Snape's arrival in their kitchen had very nearly broken him. He'd been vindicated in front of his family, and yet he felt hollow. Harry was sure to be in a right state if Snape's appearance was anything to go by and Ron wasn't sure if he could bear seeing his friend like that. Fire travel was incredibly swift and they arrived in a field that led to a garden with a house in the distance. Snape let go of him carefully, his first and probably last hug from the irascible Potions Master.

Ron nodded in acknowledgement and headed for the house, walking swiftly. Fawkes soared and dipped overhead, matching their pace instead of going ahead, an action that only increased Ron's fears. There were all sorts of things that could be inflicted and healed in a month, and that wasn't even getting into the psychological aspect of torture.

"How bad is it?" he forced the question from his tight throat and Snape sighed.

"He's been conscious intermittently since we rescued him, though he is terribly weakened, and it's taken us the last three days to work out that he was asking for you. He has been beaten nearly to death, cut, burnt and starved. He is somehow repelling all Magic around him, which means that we have to treat everything with potions; although his Magic is doing everything it can to heal him. He's running a fever we can't break, fortunately we have been able to prevent it from climbing too high. He cannot speak clearly; he manages to communicate with us through sounds and gestures, and he is blind."

The litany was like a series of cruel blows and Ron had to catch his breath even as they hurried forward.

"Thank you," the words covered a wide range of things, thanks for the information, for all the man was doing to help Harry now, for whatever he had done to help Harry escape. Snape made no reply, though he nodded in the corner of Ron's vision. They had reached the house, and he stood back as Snape opened the door, leading the way. Ron took no notice of the interior as he was led upstairs and into a room. He was vaguely aware that the Headmaster was sitting beside Harry, on the side of the bed furthest from the door, but all of his concentration was on his friend.

Harry looked horrible, but Ron didn't care. He didn't see all of the injuries and marks, only his friend, lying too still in the big bed. Harry's eyes had been closed, but at the noise made by their entrance the green eyes opened.

"Nnn?"

"I'm here mate," Ron blurted and slid gingerly onto the edge of the bed, wrapping his fingers lightly around a bandaged hand. Harry made a contented noise and shifted his hand, trying to turn it in Ron's grip. Ron added his other hand to their grip immediately, letting Harry tangle their fingers.

"Harry, do you want some water?" the Headmaster's voice was gentle, and Ron glanced up at him. Dumbledore was in the same pitiful state as Snape, crumpled, careworn and badly sleep deprived.

"Nnn. Ssss?"

"What flavour soup?" Ron interpreted without thought, "You know, I think the twins have been working on something, or we could try…"

"Tss."

"Tomato it is," Ron glanced at the Headmaster questioningly, who nodded, surprise clearly written on his face. When Snape had said that Harry was communicating with them, he assumed that they understood his friend. Although on second thoughts, Snape had also said it had taken them four days to figure out that Harry was calling for Ron. Perhaps they didn't understand Harry as well as they'd thought.

"I'll get it, along with his potions," Snape's voice rasped from behind them, and the man disappeared before his words had time to echo, footsteps rapping quickly towards the stairs. Harry sighed, his eyes sliding closed, fingers tightening on Ron's.

"I won't go any where," Ron promised, "Though I think the Headmaster could use some rest."

"Sss," Harry agreed, and Ron smiled at Dumbledore, who had a faint glimmer of tears in his eyes. Ron suspected that when the adults weren't so exhausted there was a long conversation in his future, but for now it was enough that they'd accepted his translations.

"Harry says sleep," Ron relayed, and Dumbledore dashed a finger under his eyes. He leant over and kissed Harry's temple, an action that Harry leant into before obediently getting up and slowly heading for a cot on the far wall. It creaked as he lay down and Harry smiled proudly at the ceiling.

"Bully," Ron whispered, "And precisely when did you take over Hogwarts?"

"Mmm," was the vague reply and Ron grinned, content to sit quietly and hold Harry's hand. There didn't seem to be an inch of him that wasn't bandaged, and the bandages were so thick… which meant that Harry was horribly thin underneath them all. Soft footsteps sounded and Ron turned his head to glance at Snape. The man looked surprised that the Headmaster was lying down and breathing quietly, though he wasn't asleep, watching each movement in the room closely.

"Harry, we need to lift you a little," Snape said quietly, regret colouring his words, "Weasley, it hurts him to be moved, but he cannot take the potions lying down."

"Ok," Ron tugged experimentally and Harry let him go with a sigh, "Do you want me to lift him or feed him the potions and soup?"

"It may be best if I lift him," Snape sighed, "I'm sorry Harry."

"Sss aaa," was the faint response. Snape glanced at Ron who offered a strained smile. He pitied the two men that had dealt with this for the last four days without knowing that Harry was forgiving them for the pain they couldn't avoid inflicting.

"It's ok, he understands," Ron relayed and steeled himself for the coming task. He didn't like the thought that making Harry better was also hurting him, but knew that they had to be sensible about this. Harry wouldn't hate them for helping him, no matter how much it hurt. At least Ron was there with him now, and able to do whatever he could to ease Harry's pain as he healed.

It was a hollow comfort, but as Harry whimpered softly in pain it was better than nothing.

0o0o0o0


	9. wordless communication

…_wordless communication…_

Five days after his rescue, and one after the young Mr Weasley joined them, Harry lapsed into a coma, accompanied by a terrible fever. Potions couldn't reduce it, and no amount of wet cloths, cooling breezes or ice packs could ease it. Severus couldn't understand what was causing it, and without the aid of diagnostic spells they were reduced to palliative care. The teenager took it upon himself to fetch and carry, doing the best he could to spare Albus, which Snape silently approved of. His mentor was showing every year of his age at the moment, and Snape was certain that he was not his usual immaculate self either.

Six days after his rescue, Harry began to scream. Magic flowed off him, pushing them all away from his bed, pulsating around the room. Severus felt a tingle in his left hand and looked down in time to see a small burn on his hand heal itself immediately before he was distracted by the horrendous sound of every bone in Harry's wasted body fracturing itself and realigning. Young Weasley cowered at the foot of the bed, hands over his ears and tears streaming down his face, an action that Severus almost wished he could copy, as Harry's own body perpetrated this torture on himself. The screams reached a frantic pitch and then were replaced by a horrible gurgling noise as the Magic concentrated around his throat for a long moment.

Then everything was silent, and Severus found himself afraid to move lest he trigger another wave of Magic from Harry. Albus had no such compunctions, rushing to the bed and checking the gasping occupant.

"His fever has broken," his mentors voice snapped Severus from his horrified trance, "Severus, some pain relieving potion."

"Here," he withdrew the vial from the bedside drawer, one of several that he'd brewed fresh just after Weasley had arrived, burning himself in his tired state. Together they fed the potion to Harry, who sighed and settled into the mattress quietly.

"Ron," Albus moved to comfort the redhead, and Severus tuned them out, choosing to wipe the worst of the sweat from Harry's exposed and newly unmarked skin, not that there was much of it. They hadn't bothered putting pyjamas on him, as everything had to be done by hand, which meant it would have been too painful to treat his wounds, especially as they would have to undress him to tend him. Instead, they had chosen to maintain an illusion of dignity by draping a towel across the boys' hips. Snape wondered if that would soon change - if Harry's Magic were healing him to the degree that his bruises were gone, perhaps the burns, cuts and other afflictions would also be healed. As it was so painful to change the boys' bandages by hand he was loath to investigate so soon after the agonies Harry had inflicted on himself.

"Severus?" Albus laid a hand on his shoulder and he straightened, grateful for his mentor's presence. Simply having Albus here made the situation so much more tolerable. He turned and smiled at the elderly Wizard in reassurance.

"His bruises have disappeared. Perhaps we will find the rest of his wounds healed at the next bandage change," his words were matter of fact, the tone faintly a plea. He could not deal with inflicting pain upon their charge at the moment, and would argue fiercely against any such course of action.

"Perhaps," Albus smiled, and made no move to urge that they change the bandages at all. Snape bowed his head in gratitude and glanced over at Weasley, who had regained most of his composure and was sliding his hand under Harry's. Any time he was not fetching and carrying, Weasley held his friend's hand, whether he was conscious or not. That friendly contact could only help as Snape had noticed how Harry leant into Albus' loving touches.

It was readily apparent to Severus that his mentor loved the child they were caring for, and that Harry returned the feeling. The green-eyed teen had even leant into Severus' hands on the rare occasions that he bestowed a non-clinical touch on the boy. The trust in that action touched something deep in Severus; that a student that had treated him with anger and dislike, emotions he had reciprocated publicly, could find it in himself to trust his touch when he was so helpless was a precious gift. Severus had already decided that if the boy survived his ordeal then he Severus would make an effort to get to know the child as an individual instead of the son of his father. He only hoped that Harry would also be amenable to a more cordial relationship.

They did what little they could for their charge and then Severus dosed Albus' tea with a sleeping potion, moving him to the cot when he succumbed with Weasley's help. They did not speak, settling into chairs on the other side of the bed silently, waiting for Harry to wake. The feat of healing himself would have weakened him dangerously, and in Severus' opinion young Harry was already close to the edge of death.

Weasley didn't seem to fear the next few hours, he had a bond with Harry that Severus had missed entirely. Perhaps it was that at school where so many others surrounded them that the bond was subtler, here it was thrown into stark relief as they relied upon it to communicate with their injured charge.

"Weasley, I must ask," Severus kept his voice down so as not to disturb Albus. The potion would keep him safely asleep for some time, but Albus was a powerful Wizard and that meant that he could burn through the potion more quickly if his sleeping mind thought he was missing anything important, "How do you know what Potter is saying?"

"It goes back to first year," Weasley… no, Severus believed that he preferred to be called Ron… murmured, "Harry and Hermione are both Muggle raised. They didn't know the first thing about the Wizarding world, and Harry used to watch me out of the corner of his eye to see what I accepted as normal and what I accepted as weird. I used to watch him too, so I could try and stop him from asking questions that would make him seem thick."

"And after a while wordless communication became second nature," Severus surmised, and Ron nodded, smiling at some uncommunicated memory.

"Hermione does it too, but she watches everyone, not just me, so with her it's more generalised. As the years went by Harry and I started relying more upon it in emergencies… or during pranks," the admission was matter of fact and Severus nodded, choosing not to sneer or make a fuss. If he could try to wipe the slate clean with Harry then it stood to reason that he did the same with Ron. You didn't get Harry Potter without Ron Weasley close by, in fact seeing one without the other was so rare that over the school terms he had used it as a barometer for trouble.

Although truth be told, if seeing Potter without Weasley was an indication of trouble, seeing one of the Weasley twins alone was a sign of impending Armageddon.

0o0o0o0

Severus' little trick with the potion had not been undetected, though Albus didn't want to argue with the man. After all, it had been an exhausting six days, and Harry's final illness had drained them all. He woke on the cot to find Severus and young Ron asleep in their chairs, necks kinked awkwardly.

At some point in the night, Harry had turned onto his side, facing them both and as Albus rose he noticed that the boy in the bed was trying to scratch his shin with his foot. Albus adjusted the towel to preserve his charge's modesty and contemplated easing the itch that Harry was trying to banish; he didn't like to see the boy discomforted, but at the same time it was serving to draw him from the depths of unconsciousness. Severus had woken when Albus rose from the cot, and his gaze was drawn to the irritated movement. When he glanced up his eyes were full of something Albus hadn't seen in the younger man for some time. Hope.

Severus reached over to wake Ronald, just as Harry sighed in irritation and stirred on the bed.

"Evanesco," Harry muttered and the bandages vanished, along with the salves and balms that had been under them, no doubt the cause of the itch. The skin beneath was perfect, unmarked and unblemished. The fever and outpouring of his Magic had healed him completely.

"Harry?" Ron asked groggily and Harry sighed, stirring on the bed and reaching a hand out towards his friend. His eyes were still unfocussed and a part of Albus grieved that Harry's Magic had not been able to cure his blindness.

"Ron," there was relief in Harry's weak voice, "I thought I'd dreamt you. Are Albus and Severus… I mean the Headmaster and the Professor here?"

"Albus and Severus are here, Harry," Severus spoke up before Albus could, correcting his use of their titles. Albus couldn't bear to go back to having that artificial barrier between him and the boy any longer, and it seemed that Severus felt the same way.

"How do you feel dear boy?" Albus asked anxiously and Harry turned carefully onto his back, one hand going down to secure the towel. There was a mark on his chest, a lightning bolt scar, and Albus surmised that was where Malfoy's Killing Curse had nearly struck him.

"Exposed," the frank answer had more than one level of meaning, "Can I have a bath?"

"The guest bath is opposite your room," Albus confirmed, "I'll get you some pyjamas."

"Come on mate," young Ron was up in a flash, "I know where it is."

Harry sat up cautiously and Ron wrapped the towel firmly around his hips before scooping him out of bed and onto his feet. The teens moved close together, and Ron wrapped a shepherding, supporting arm around Harry before leading the way out of the room and into the guest bathroom.

It was a moment's work to transfigure a couple of handkerchiefs into a set of pyjamas and a dressing robe, and a pair of socks into slippers. Ron was running the bath when Albus knocked and took the proffered things with a wan smile.

"We should take the chance to freshen up," Severus murmured from behind him, "You first, Albus. I want to change the bedding in there and collect some more potions for Harry."

Severus had several changes of clothes at the summerhouse, stored in his own room down the hall, robes that Albus had bought for him that didn't suit his public demeanour. He could be coaxed to wear them for Albus and as there was no alternative was willing to include young Mr Weasley in the more relaxed persona he adopted in the summer home. Albus didn't dispute that a chance to freshen up would be more than welcome, and it was a very much more relaxed quartet that reassembled in Harry's room an hour later. Harry sat up on the bed, knees drawn to his chest, the blankets covering his bony feet, the slippers he'd been given tucked neatly to one side of the bed.

"Harry, could I have your permission to cast a diagnostic spell on you?" Albus asked from his place on the foot of Harry's bed. He received a hesitant nod and Ron moved from Harry's side, out of arms reach for the first time since Harry had woken. The diagnostic spell flashed from Albus' wand and rebounded, hitting him squarely in the chest.

"Albus!" Harry gasped, flinging his hands out, "Did I hurt you? Ron, is he ok?!"

"Quite ok, dear boy, though apparently in need of more vitamin C," Albus gathered the distraught child into his arms and rocked them both on the bed for a moment, his lips pressed to Harry's hair. The child's panic receded and Albus let him pull away, seeking his friends warmth instead. Severus exchanged a considering glance with Albus but made no comment. The magical shield was still in place then, and apparently not entirely under Harry's control. Albus nodded once to his protégé. They would be able to teach Harry to regain control of his Magic in time, but right now panic was still too close to the surface of his emotions.

"I'm sorry," Harry sighed, "I just… it scares me to have Magic cast at me, especially when I can't see. My head knows you won't hurt me, but my instincts scream no."

"Harry," Albus hesitated for a moment, "Do you remember much about the initial attack?"

If he did this would explain why his instincts were still running high. They would have to find a way to reassure Harry that he was safe, although in time he would relax around them.

"I remember everything," the soft statement hit them all hard, "From the very first to the very last."

"Can you tell us?" Severus voice was so gentle it was almost unfamiliar, but Albus smiled in pride when Harry turned towards it and nodded, his face sombre.

"Usually my cousin Dudley whines in the car for toys and money. It took me a while to realise that he wasn't whining, and when I looked up I realised that he and his parents were all unusually happy. I realised we weren't going to the house in Surrey, but by the time I had a plan to pull the car over we were pulling into the yard of a warehouse. I had my wand out but the Death Eaters were too many, they got me out of the car, and tried to stun me. Something in me just cracked and I screamed no, and their Magic couldn't touch me. Mr Malfoy said that they had told Uncle Vernon they would be paid for giving me to the Death Eaters. He wasn't even under Imperious… they were willing to sell me…"

Albus felt his heart break as Harry's voice caught and the emaciated teen wiped tears from his face. Ron wrapped Harry in his arms and Severus looked fit to kill. Fortunately the targets of his rage were safely out of reach, already dead and in a highly unpleasant manner.

"They hit me across the back of the head and killed my wand, and I was too dazed to save the Dursley's…" Harry shuddered, caught up in the horror of that afternoon, "I wished them all dead once… I can't believe I did that…"

"Harry, the wish of a very angry and upset child is not enough to condemn a person to death," Severus droned in his most authoritative voice, and Albus was relieved to see Harry respond to it, "The Dursley's deaths are _not_ your fault or responsibility."

Harry nodded and they waited for him to get himself back under control. Ron was rocking them both a little, and Albus watched the green eyed teen relaxing into the movement, turning his body into that of his friends, maximising their contact.

"They took me to Voldemort," Harry bit his lip, "You saw what they did, don't make me say it."

"Very well," Albus murmured, "You needn't speak of it just now."

The warning was implicit. Harry would need to speak of his experiences at some point - it wasn't healthy to repress them. However there was little to be gained in making him relive the torture so soon after it had happened.

"Malfoy kicked me in the throat when I mouthed off at him, and after that I couldn't speak. I was sort of relieved, it meant Voldemort couldn't get the prophecy out of me," Harry revealed that little titbit almost casually, and Albus felt a surge of protective rage. It was a good thing that Mr Malfoy was forever beyond his reach.

"They put me in this little room and I could feel all sorts of spells on it… it muffled me… I knew that Hedwig wouldn't be able to find me unless I got out, so that was the plan… to get out of the room long enough for Hedwig to get a fix on me, and then she'd tell Fawkes, who could tell the Order. I knew that Fawkes would be asking her for a location on me, so I kept trying to get out the door. Then Severus came and got me out anyway. Thank you."

"Thank you," Severus replied, his deep voice laced with unfamiliar emotion, "You removed my Mark."

"It was burning me," Harry whispered, "Like the way that Voldemort burned me just by being in the same place as me. I couldn't stand to have it so close… I just needed to make it go away and after the Killing Curse I could feel that the tie to Voldemort was weakened. So I pushed it out. I'm sorry if I hurt you."

"That moment of minor discomfort was a very small price to pay for my freedom and my life," Severus leaned over in a quite uncharacteristic gesture and Albus beamed as Harry allowed the gentle embrace, returning it timidly.

Harry would need to eat and rest, in that order, but things were definitely looking up.

0o0o0o0

..._I have a wand…_

Ron felt the squeezing sensation recede and stepped back from his teachers embrace. The Burrow loomed behind them, and he heard his mother spot them from the window. Harry was deeply asleep, exhausted by the half cup of plain tomato soup and buttered finger of toast that he'd had for lunch. Albus predicted he'd stay asleep for a while and had sent them both away on a series of errands. Ron hadn't wanted to go; yet perversely he needed the break.

"Thanks Severus," it still felt odd to call their teacher by his first name, but to call him Professor in these circumstances would have been worse. Severus was a real live human being; Professor Snape was a bastard. Ron was old enough to understand the distinction and be grateful for it. It made an intolerable situation a little easier to bear, and the fact that calling the two adults with them by their first name was soothing to Harry made it somehow easier for Ron to use their first names as well. If anyone had said to him at the end of term that he would start calling the Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot and the Head of Slytherin House by their first names over the summer he'd have accused them of spending too much time with Trelawney and her perfumed smoke.

"Albus asked me to call a meeting of the Order," Severus said quietly as Ron's mum and dad came running from the house, hope on their faces, "Tell your parents as much as you wish. I'll be back in three hours to collect you, Albus' laboratory was running low on some key ingredients and I need to visit Hogwarts to replenish them."

"I'll be ready," Ron promised, "I'll have a bag… I'll keep it small."

"I have a wand, I can shrink it," Severus replied dryly and Ron blushed a little before offering a smile. Severus offered a very slight twitch of the mouth in reply and nodded to Ron's mum and dad.

"Take care of yourself, Severus," Ron swept his eyes over the deep green, wide sleeved robes his teacher was wearing and received a short nod in reply. The robes were quite a change from the usual black teaching robes they saw him in. His teacher took another step back and disaparated.

"Ron?" his mum was positively quivering and he had no desire to drag this out. She'd hex him for sure and he wasn't in the habit of torturing people any way. There had been enough torture already this summer.

"He's ok, mum, his physical injuries are mostly healed," he let her hug him, hiding his face on her shoulder for a moment, "Severus has been asked to convene a meeting of the Order soon, you'll get all the information you need then. I need to pack myself some clothes - Albus said I could stay with Harry for the rest of the holidays."

It didn't even occur to him to ask, he knew that his parents wouldn't resent him leaving the family home to aid his troubled friend. Besides, he'd have the Defeater of Grindlewald, and the Order's Spy at his side, so there would be little to no danger. It would never have occurred to his parents to say no. Harry needed Ron, just as Ron needed Harry, and keeping them apart was cruel. His parents wouldn't inflict that on them.

"Ron!" Hermione shouted in the distance and Ron looked up. Their friend was running from the meadow behind the house, closely followed by Ginny and for a moment he felt guilty that he was abandoning her, technically his guest, to be entertained by his family. It was lucky that the girls got along so well really.

"Hello Hermione, he's ok," he got the words out just before she tried to smother him and hugged her back gently. Her eyes were a little wet when she pulled back to look at him.

"Oh Ron, we've been so worried," she murmured, and he grinned at her affectionately, "And you look awful!"

"Thanks, Hermione," his sarcasm bounced right off her, and a moment later they were all seated around the table in the kitchen even though he couldn't remember walking there.

"Ron," his dad sounded grave, "Can you tell us…"

"Sure," Ron sighed, his face falling a little. This would hurt, not because his parents would shout at, blame or hex him, but because he didn't like to upset them at all, and what he was about to tell them was highly upsetting.

"The Dursley's were selling Harry to Mr Malfoy," best get it over with was his mothers motto, and one that would get them through the more ghastly aspects of his tale most easily, "Harry has told us that he remembers everything that happened, but its probably best not to pressure him for too many details right now. He's very weak and was in a lot of pain, though he had a huge Magic surge yesterday and healed most of his injuries. He's somehow blocking spells that are cast on him though, so we don't know why he didn't heal all of himself."

"What do you mean, all of himself?" Hermione sounded horrified and Ron was glad she'd been spared the sight of their best friend so badly mangled. His mum was looking pretty horrified too, though his dad was just plain angry; probably at the now deceased Dursley's.

"He can't see," Ron said it as matter of fact as he could, not wanting to have to explain the awful way Harry's eyes looked past you, even though Harry was still turning in the direction of the person he was speaking to, "They beat him because he was reflecting their spells back at them, and they hit him across the back of the head a lot, and now he can't see. Albus tried a diagnostic spell on him this morning, but even with Harry's permission to cast it, the spell still rebounded."

"Headmaster Dumbledore," his mother corrected, choosing to focus on a minor issue instead of a major one. Ron shook his head. He had more respect for the Headmaster when he called him by name than by title and his mother would just have to get over it.

"We use each others first names. When I first got there Harry was so badly hurt he could barely make a noise, let alone speak clearly. It was easier for him to use first names, and when he healed himself he went into a sort of coma; though luckily it was only for a day. When he woke up Severus insisted that we keep using first names. It makes Harry feel safer, and he's still very… nervy."

This last admission was especially difficult, as Harry always worked hard to project a confident front to the world. Seeing him pale and shaken was an unnerving experience for Ron. Even after the Dementors at the lake in third year Harry had woken full of spirit and courage. He knew his friend was not a coward, just as he knew that Harry would recover his previous self in time.

"Oh Ronnie," his mum sniffed and sat back, "The poor lad!"

"He's very thin from being starved, and he's weak as a hinky punk," the words couldn't be stopped, "All he wanted to eat was a cup of soup and he couldn't even finish that! I can pick him up and carry him, and … "

His dad wrapped him in a strong hug as Ron broke off, shuddering in remembrance. Harry had confided that the Death Eaters had tried to rape him, but he'd been able to stop them. His friend had been in the bath at that point and had actually cried a few bitter tears. Ron had held him and shushed uselessly, wishing he could get to Riddle Mansion and do some damage. He'd never felt so pathetic and powerless in his life.

"Mr Malfoy cast the Killing Curse on him, and Harry's shield somehow repelled it. He's dead, and the explosion was what let Severus rescue him, though I think he was hurt too at the time. Harry did something to push away the Mark, so Severus isn't a Death Eater any more. We're all staying at … I can't say where, because its under the Fidelius spell, but Albus and Severus are with us all the time and Fawkes is Secret Keeper, so we're completely safe," he rambled into his fathers shoulder, "Harry's asleep and Albus sent us to run some errands."

"You need to pack a bag," Molly murmured and after a very long moment his dad let him go. Ron smiled shakily and sat back, looking over at Hermione.

"I'm sorry," he apologised for abandoning her, but she waved a hand impatiently.

"Don't be, Harry needs you and I'm ok. I can go home if I'm in the way," she stated matter-of-factly and quailed under Molly's ire. Ron's mum had taken to the Muggle born Witch, and was as happy to see her as Ron usually was.

"Ron, I'm sure there are plenty of spells that Harry can use to compensate. I'll start researching them," Hermione offered and Ron nodded, not mentioning that he wasn't sure if Harry would be returning to Hogwarts while he was so vulnerable or that Albus and Severus were likely to know a few spells of their own. Hermione found research soothing, and Harry had once confided to Ron that he asked their friend tricky questions sometimes in an effort to help her relax. Ron thought the idea was barking, but it did seem to have the desired effect so he left them be.

He followed his mum up the stairs to start packing, determined to enjoy his family for a few hours.

0o0o0o0


	10. clatter of feathers

…_clatter of feathers…_

Harry was alone in the room when he woke, and for a moment that surprised him. He hadn't been alone since Severus - strange that the name came so easily to him now instead of Snape - had rescued him from Voldemort. Harry decided it was a good sign, that he was well enough to be without constant supervision, and pushed up cautiously in the soft bed.

He could hear a breeze blowing in nearby trees and feel the sun shining through multiple windows. Hedwig was outside, he had sensed her when she'd arrived two days after he had, and his faithful pet had been living wild in the forest out there since. His owl was a perfectly capable hunter, but he hated the thought of her being alone out there - unlike Hogwarts, there were no other owls nearby for her to chat to and Hedwig was a very sociable bird.

He didn't want to call someone just to open a window for him to let her in, and it only took a moment to think of a way to locate the windows. The warmth from the sun was a good beacon to aim for, and Harry got up carefully, his feet touching old wood. Moving was disorienting, but the blindness had not let up once since the darkness had first encroached on his vision, and he had a feeling that he'd be stuck in the dark for a while. That meant that he had to get used to moving around independently because there was no way he was going to be dependent and helpless.

It seemed safer to take small, slow steps, and a cautious hand found the wall for a guide. He put his other hand out in front to warn him of obstacles and moved carefully, eventually locating the window. Cautious pats and touches led him to the catch and he undid it, opening the window out into space. Warm air, scented with living things stole over the windowsill and he breathed it in gratefully while he waited, confident that she would know he was waiting for her to come in. Sure enough it was only a matter of a minute before Hedwig arrived with a clatter of feathers and hooted at him anxiously.

"Hello girl," Harry grinned affectionately and careful fingers located her, petting her wings lightly, not wanting to poke or unbalance her with clumsy movements, "Are you ok?"

She turned her head and nibbled his fingers in confirmation before clicking her beak and hopping onto his wrist, walking up his arm to his shoulder. Her weight was a comfort and she nibbled on his hair as well, a trick that tickled a little. Footsteps climbed the stairs, and Harry turned carefully towards the sound.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed, and Harry grinned proudly at his friend. It may not seem like much to have found the window and let Hedwig in, but it was important to him that he took these first steps towards independence. The fact that there hadn't been any witnesses as he'd groped and inched his way across the room also helped, though he supposed he'd have to get used to it until he learnt the layout of the house and the rooms.

"Hello," Harry forsook the warmth of the window and sought out the bed again, looking for the dressing gown that Ron would have draped over the end. He could almost hear Ron gritting his teeth from the doorway and arrived at the bed flushed with triumph, locating the gown with patting hands and putting it on carefully, giving Hedwig time to move from one shoulder to another.

"I suppose if I offered to help you'd just bite my head off," Ron muttered and Harry frowned.

"I suppose if I let you, you'd keep me wrapped in cotton wool. I have to learn Ron. I won't be dependent!" he snapped at his friend, good mood vanishing in a flash. He'd have thought that Ron at least would understand that Harry didn't want to be at the mercy of others.

"Harry, you were nearly dead two days ago," Ron retorted, his voice strained with memory, "But no, you just have to get up and leap into the unknown again!"

Harry paused, hearing the stress and upset in the red heads voice. His words were accurate, but it was hard to explain. He'd relied on the Dursley's and look where that had got him. A moment later he was berating himself for the thought. Ron was nothing like the Dursley's, Ron would back him up to the very end.

"Look, I'll make a deal with you," Ron's voice startled him, "You promise to let us help you out; learn the layout of the house and some spells and skills to get around with, and I promise not to wrap you in cotton wool, whatever that is."

"Deal," Harry said quickly, "Thanks Ron."

"Oh no, thank you Harry," the retort was sarcastic, but that was all right. Ron's footsteps sounded and the red head retrieved something from the floor.

"Slippers," his friend explained, "In front of each foot. And before you start on how it's summer and not cold, I think Albus would prefer you to be properly protected against the chance of splinters, stubbed toes and unexpected rough surfaces."

Harry couldn't argue with that and slipped his feet in obediently. He found Ron's hand near his and took it, getting a small squeeze in response. His friend led him slowly out of the room, explaining the layout of the house as they went and warning him about the stairs. At the bottom of the seventeen steps they turned left, away from the outer wall of the house and into the main area of the downstairs. There was a group of couches facing a set of French windows and Ron sat him down on that. Hedwig instantly fluttered to his lap and settled down with a hoot for the duration, earning a snort from Ron.

"Something to eat, I think," Ron muttered, "Sandwiches ok?"

"Great," Harry agreed hungrily, "And some water please."

"You got it," Ron stepped away and moments later there was rummaging and fixing sounds.

"Where is everyone?" Harry called lightly, basking in the sun coming through the windows. It felt good to have light on his face after so many weeks in the dark, even if he couldn't actually see it, and he waved his hand, incanting _alohamora_ at the glass doors to open them. The scents from the garden were stronger at ground level and he took an appreciative breath.

"Um, there's been a bit of a problem with the Daily Prophet and Albus and Severus have gone to deal with it," Ron called from the kitchen, "The paper is planning to defy the gag order the Ministry put on your abduction and announce to the world at large that you're dead."

"Bloody hell," Harry borrowed Ron's usual reaction to bad news and stroked Hedwig gently, getting a sleepy hoot in reply, "They'll start a panic!"

"Looks like they already have," Ron muttered and there was a clunk as the tray he was carrying hit the table in front of Harry's couch. Harry shot his best glare into the darkness and Ron sighed, settling onto the cushions next to him.

"Look mate, Albus and Severus will deal with it," Ron pushed a sandwich into his hand, "You know they will. You don't think the Daily Prophet will be able to stand up the Headmaster _and_ the Head of Slytherin do you?"

"Not when you put it like that," Harry conceded, "Sorry, Ron. I guess I'm not thinking clearly."

"Wonder why?"

"Ok, now you're abusing sarcasm," Harry warned his friend and took a bite of cheese and pickle sandwich, made just the way he liked it. Ron chuckled and they sat in comfortable silence to demolish their lunch.

The smothering feeling of the little stone room faded even further into memory.

0o0o0o0


	11. bolstered and protected

…_bolstered and protected…_

Hermione wasn't sure how Mr Weasley had arranged this chance to see Harry, but she was grateful for the opportunity. It had shaken her badly to see Ron so upset over their friend's condition; normally he was very sanguine about other people's illnesses. With Harry in and out of the Hospital Wing at the drop of a broomstick, that trait had stood the redhead in good stead. Harry was prone to injuries on the Quidditch pitch, his nature did not allow him to hold back. Ron's very terrible distress had been a graphic indicator of how badly Harry was hurt.

Hermione and the rest of the Weasley family were waiting in a little room just to the side of the Great Hall, in fact it was the room the Champions had gathered in. Ginny was examining the mantelpiece while they waited and Mr and Mrs Weasley were pacing back and forth a little, arm in arm with slightly anxious expressions on their faces. Even the twins were unusually sombre, and Bill was sitting on one of the chairs, his foot tapping unconsciously.

Professor Snape had been waiting here for them, and had warned them that Harry was very fragile and lacking the strength to withstand a lot of fuss and bother. Anyone who upset or hurt him in any way would have the Headmaster to answer to first, and Snape second.

"And if you so much as think about casting Magic upon him, let alone any other kind of 'prank' you'll think that a week with the Dark Lord will be a rest cure when I'm through with you!" he'd threatened the twins, who'd gone faintly green and promised to behave. Even Mr and Mrs Weasley had been impressed with that warning. Hermione wondered whom he was trying to fool though, as they all knew he hated Harry. Perhaps he was trying to gain points with the Order now that he couldn't Spy for them any more, and appearing to care for Harry was one way to do that.

Harry was going to see them all for a little visit and then be interviewed by an Auror and the Minister of Magic in the presence of a reporter, the Headmaster and Professor Snape. Hermione had a feeling that the Weasley parents were going to try to be present too, which meant that Ron at the least would also be there. The Order had apparently been unable to staunch the Daily Prophet, and from what Mr Weasley had let slip, there had been some talk about taking the paper down permanently… one way or another.

There was a soft pop and Fawkes appeared, two figures clutching his tail feathers. The Phoenix let out a soft cry and they let go, letting it fly out of the way. Hermione had no time to watch where it went, too busy trying to recognise the face of her friend in the skeletal waif that stood bolstered and protected in Ron's arms.

"Harry!" she choked, breaking the shocked stillness of the room, and Harry turned his head towards her, his blinded eyes staring disconcertingly over her shoulder.

"Hello Hermione," he sounded much the same, his voice incongruously strong, emanating from such a devastated frame. He turned in Ron's arms hesitantly and put out his hands. It was all she could do to take them carefully, instead of sweeping him into the usual tight hug.

"You look… better," she struggled to come up with something that didn't sound completely stupid, and failed. Harry quirked a smile at her though, and he snickered too.

"Better than what?" he joked and Hermione squeezed his hands instead of replying. Mrs Weasley stepped forward then, and Hermione let go so the mother of seven could gather her adopted son into a careful embrace.

"How are you dear?" she asked quietly, her voice steady despite the pain written so clearly across her face. Harry's stick-like arms wrapped around her as Ron stepped back to let his mother have full access to their friend. A glance at his face showed he was not happy that Harry was here, and Hermione wondered how she could have missed the stress that was shining in his eyes. It had been present yesterday when he had visited, but she had overlooked it somehow in her eagerness to gather more news on Harry.

"I'm ok now Mrs Weasley," Harry's voice called her attention back to her friend, "Thanks for letting Ron come stay with me."

"Not at all, Harry. Just as long as you two behave yourself for Professor's Dumbledore and Snape," there was a faint warning in the tone, but Hermione thought that Harry would have a tough time misbehaving in his current condition. Ginny came over to say hello, followed by Mr Weasley, who gathered Harry into a hug of his own, murmuring something softly into the teens ear that garnered a nod and squeeze of the terribly thin arms around his chest. Ron mentioned that the twins and Bill were also there, though only Bill had the sense to say hello; he didn't have a chance to add his own touch to Harry as his father still had him wrapped up tightly. The twins looked so horrified that Hermione almost wanted to laugh.

"Harry," Hermione hadn't noticed the door opening, but Professor Dumbledore stood there, looking them all over carefully as if to assess if they had been straining Harry's obviously fragile strength, "I'm sorry to interrupt dear boy, but Minister Fudge and Editor Obfuscus Veritas have arrived. Aurors Shacklebolt and Tonks are here too, they wish to talk to you about your ordeal."

"I'm ready," Harry's familiar crooked smile became visible as he withdrew from Mr Weasley's hug, and it made Hermione want to cry. He was clearly far too delicate to be doing this, and the knowledge made her want to rant at the Minister. Ron stepped to Harry's side and took his hand, reminding Hermione that Harry would not have had a chance to master any of the spells required to give him some independence. She had quite a list for him already, though it was still back at the Burrow. She made a mental note to send the list to the Headmaster as soon as they got back to the Weasley's home.

"May we come too?" Mr Weasley asked, and when the Headmaster nodded everyone in the room chose to interpret that as permission for them to follow Harry and Ron through the door and into the Great Hall. Professor Snape was already in the Hall, glowering at everyone and hovering next to a chintz armchair, which had doubtless been drawn up by the Headmaster for Harry to sit in. The Headmaster was fond of gaudy things and Hermione had seen him draw up similar armchairs in the past.

Obfuscus Veritas wore purple robes that were so bright they glowed, in contrast to the sombre pinstripe of the Minister. Percy was there too, and all three of them were gawking with no thought for the feelings of Harry; it was enough to make Hermione almost glad that Harry couldn't see this. Tonks was standing next to Shacklebolt in her Auror robes, her hair shocked to a mousy brown colour at the sight of Hermione's friend.

"There is a seat here Harry," Professor Snape's voice broke the tableau and Hermione blinked in surprise as Harry smiled in the direction of the voice and held his free hand out. Snape helped settle Harry into the armchair, receiving a quiet,

"Thanks Severus," in return. Hermione hadn't thought she'd live to see the day those two acted nicely towards each other; in fact it disturbed her. Hopefully Harry wouldn't be kept isolated with the Professor after this interview, after all Snape was a Death Eater; not even his status as Spy could negate that. Beside her Ginny shifted uneasily and they shared a look of surprise and concern.

"Harry Minister Fudge is here," the Headmasters voice was gentle, coaching and Harry responded with a small smile, lifting his head and turning to face forward.

"Hello Minister," Harry wasn't looking at the Minister at all, who looked very insulted by this but clearly couldn't bluster as he would have liked because of how frail Harry looked. He made a noise acknowledging Harry's greeting and Hermione glared at the man when Harry withdrew a little.

"And Aurors Tonks and Shacklebolt," Dumbledore continued, the glare that he was shooting at the Minister not contaminating his voice a single iota. It was a skill that Hermione decided she should acquire as well, the better to lift Harry's spirits.

"Hello Harry."

"Wotcher Harry."

"Hello," Harry replied, not distinguishing his greeting. Hermione thought this was probably because he wouldn't have been officially introduced to them in public before and Harry was likely warned against revealing that he knew them from the Order.

"And last, Madam Obfuscus Veritas, Chief Editor of the Daily Prophet. Madam Veritas has been forbidden to speak to you Harry, as she is only here to witness the Auror interview, not conduct one herself."

Hermione didn't need to visit the library to figure out that this reiteration of the rules was as much for Madam Veritas as Harry. Harry nodded anyway to show he understood and took a deep breath. Kingsley stepped forward and sat on a stool that he conjured soundlessly opposite the dark haired waif.

"Harry, I'm going to ask you several questions," his deep voice was gentle and calm, almost dispassionate, "I want you to answer each one honestly and as completely as possible. If you need a break let me know, although it would be best to get through this in one sitting. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Harry murmured and offered a faint smile, "I'll manage."

"Ok then," Kinglsey smiled back even though Harry appeared to be looking at his nose rather than his face. It broke Hermione's heart to see such a glassy cast to Harry's eyes, which had always been so warm and alive. They had burned with his moods, and she had become used to reading them as an indicator of Harry's thoughts. That communication was void now though.

"Firstly, what can you tell me about the Dursley's and your capture by the Death Eaters?"

"From what they said after they pulled me from the car, Uncle Vernon and Mr Malfoy had an agreement. I was… being sold to the Death Eaters… the Dursley's didn't realise that they were being tricked… the Death Eaters didn't want anyone to know that they'd bought me so they… they did terrible things… it was…" Harry swallowed hard and looked down at his knees, his head lowering as he fought through the memories.

"Impossible," Fudge scoffed, clearly unmoved, "Lucius Malfoy is not a Death Eater."

"It was Mr Malfoy that snapped my wand," Harry replied in a dead voice, "You know that the wand confirms the identity of the person who destroys it to its owner…"

Hermione nodded, even as the Minister looked as if he had been slapped. She had read about that particular phenomenon after Ron had snapped his own wand. She'd come across this information in second year, when she had been looking for repair spells, hoping to help her friend. The wand always told its owner who had destroyed it, provided the owner was still alive at the time. The wand chose the Wizard, and after years of continuous use would develop a bond with its chosen one that allowed it to better refine the Magic being cast. There were ways to prove that assertion, especially if the wand in question was still available.

Tonks pulled out a box from her robes and explained in a low voice the spell she was about to cast on the wand in question. Hermione listened intently, unable to contain a gasp of dismay when she realised that the spell would completely consume Harry's wand. It would be beyond any hope of recovery then. Harry gave permission for the spell in a small voice and at the end of the incantation a wisp of something formed above the pieces of wand, which swirled slowly until it revealed Lucius Malfoy's sneering face. There was a sputter and the smell of scorched feathers and burnt holly filled the Great Hall.

"I'm sorry Harry," Ron's voice sounded mournful in the quiet that followed and Hermione realised with a shock that Harry was crying silently, arms wrapped around his narrow chest. Hermione felt herself tear up, her face heating as she struggled to control herself. Harry hated to let others see how upset he was, preferring to vent in private. Even she and Ron had very rarely seen him truly upset and they were his closest friends. The Headmaster moved then, waving a low stool into existence next to the armchair and gathering Harry into a tender hug. Ginny sniffled next to Hermione, and she saw Mrs Weasley and Fred both wipe their eyes in reaction to the scene.

"Harry…" Kingsley looked like he hated himself for trying to press the interview forward, caught between wanting to show consideration for the victim in front of him, and yet pressured by the law and the Minister to complete his task. Harry turned his head from where it had been hiding on the Headmaster's shoulder, freeing one hand from his grip on the venerable Wizards robes and wiping his face defiantly.

"I was taken to a little room that they had spelled to hide me. It was underground and made of stone," Harry's voice wavered, but he pushed the words out with determination, "The spells were… muffling me. They were… oily… dirty somehow and kept pressing on me all the time I was there."

"How were you treated?" Kingsley asked, controlling his voice in a way that Hermione could never have managed. Her instinct was to pull her wand and hex them all away from Harry, so he didn't have to go through this again so soon. He would need to talk about things eventually, but not when he was still so obviously recovering.

"They starved me, beat me… they couldn't use Magic because of the shield, but they could burn and cut me… my Magic kept flaring to heal the injuries as best as it could… then Severus came for a blood letting ritual and got me out," Harry turned his face back into Dumbledore's shoulder, "They tried to r-rape me… b-but I w-wouldn't let them…"

Hermione clenched her fists and turned her head away, sickened. She was so angry that she shook and she hated every single Death Eater in existence with a passion so fierce it was almost unrecognisable. She shot Snape a loathing glare, not caring that he had saved Harry. He had joined Voldemort and that was reason enough for her to want him well away from her vulnerable friend. His presence must be a constant reminder of the hellish weeks spent at the mercy of Voldemort and his followers, an unhealthy precedent.

"How did you escape?" Minister Fudge frowned, "And for that matter, what precisely were your injuries? You've been very vague with us Mr Potter, and that simply won't do. Obstructing the Ministry is a serious offence you know."

"As head of the Wizengamot, Cornelius, I must warn you that you are on very thin ice indeed. That broomstick won't fly," Hermione had never heard the Headmaster use that tone on _anyone_ before and she shivered, very glad she'd never made the man _that_ angry with her. Even after she and her friends had gotten mixed up in something that they shouldn't have he only used a disappointed-in-you tone.

"As for details," Snape snapped at them all, "I am prepared to show you the memory of my last meeting with the Dark Lord and the attendant memories of Harry's injuries."

"Very well," Fudge backed down, and Tonks reached into another pocket, pulling out a stone basin.

"You carry a pensieve in your pocket?" one of the twins blurted in astonishment and Tonks shot him a look that silenced him better than even Mrs Weasley could have at that point. Harry had yet to stir from the sheltering arms of their Headmaster, though he seemed to be a little better, his grip on the elderly Wizards robes not white knuckled any more.

"Of course," Tonks answer recalled Hermione's attention, "It's part of our interviewing requirements."

"Harry," the Headmaster said softly, "I must attend Severus."

There was soft regret in his voice but Harry nodded and straightened away from the support being given him. Mrs Weasley took the Headmasters place as he stood, drawing Harry into another hug and whispering into his hair. Ron moved closer too, and Harry reached out a hand, which the red head gathered in his own easily, with none of the expected discomfort he would have formerly shown in front of witnesses. This ordeal was aging Ron in a way that Hermione didn't like, and she made a mental note to be supportive of the redhead in the coming months.

0o0o0o0


	12. carpeshield

…_Carpeshield…_

Severus Snape violently disliked the idea of allowing that reporter to see the pitiful state Harry had been reduced to, but knew that protesting would only extend the boys ordeal. Prior to the summer he would have suspected the misery emanating from the teen to be an act, but now he knew better. Harry's strength was waning quickly, and Severus knew that to delay much longer would be damaging to the child's health.

He put the memory of the last few minutes of his brewing and the walk to the cell into the pensieve, followed by his first glimpse of the prisoner and the torture that Harry had undergone. He included the discussion about Avada Kedavra and showed the explosion, and his construction of the portkey. He let the beginning of the journey end the memories in the pensieve and then nodded to indicate that he had gathered all the evidence they needed to see. The memories were contiguous, which would prevent Fudge from accusing him of tampering with them.

It took all of his strength not to react to the agonised sounds that memoryHarry made in his attempts to get clear of the cursed cell. Albus was similarly affected, though his mentor only betrayed that by tucking his hands into his robes. The Aurors were watching keenly, paying close attention to the magical shield and the condition Severus' young charge had been found in. The mention of Avada Kedavra made even Albus flinch, and the explosion buffeted them even in memory. Madam Veritas was fairly licking her lips. Severus had an urge to hex them off her.

"Lucius Malfoy is dead?" the ridiculous Tonks asked, her voice tinged with something that was distinctly unprofessional. Severus confirmed that with a nod and a sneer while Veritas and Fudge exclaimed and babbled in a most juvenile fashion. The end of the memories allowed them to rise from the pensieve and Severus didn't fail to note the glances sent Harry's way as they all regained their footing. Fudge was clearly wondering how to gain control of such a powerful young man, and he didn't need to use Legilimency on Veritas to know that she was obviously going to spread as much scandal as she could in regards to the pitiful state that Harry had been reduced to. Tonks and Shacklebolt were both showing much more respect than they had before, indicating that they would be valuable resources for Harry to tap at a later date if carefully cultivated. Albus was distressed but masking it well. Severus regretted that his mentor now carried the burden of seeing Harry in such a state - the way the boy had been before his full recovery was burden enough.

There was a moment of quiet that was unfortunately broken by the politician in their midst.

"How could he hold a spell against the Unforgiveables?" Fudge blurted, avarice in his eyes, "I thought that was impossible?"

"Theoretically," Albus replied, and sighed, "With enough magical strength a shield could be cast that would theoretically overcome those spells. We haven't encountered anyone strong enough to do so yet. And young Harry did not survive unscathed, he has a new scar upon his chest from the impact of the curse."

"Isn't there a spell to measure magical potential? One that is cast against a shield spell?" Veritas voice was oily, and a spot of Legilimency showed that she wanted even more details to spill to the public, and was completely unmoved by the ordeal she had just witnessed. Severus was rapidly beginning to wonder if it would be better to simply hit both the Minister and the Editor with a really strong memory charm. Done properly they could be stripped, dosed with alcohol and dumped into a bed together in the most disreputable hotel he could find, then left to deal with the assumptions that awakening in such a state would garner. He would even arrange to have photographic evidence delivered to them both to seal their silence.

"There is," Shacklebolt confirmed reluctantly. Severus wanted to hex him. There was no point in handing the woman weapons. Even if the Auror department used the spell regularly on its recruits, which was how Severus imagined the Auror was familiar with the spell she was talking about, there was no reason to assume it was safe to perform upon Harry. It would only encourage her and the idiot Fudge to have it tested on the survivor that was even now being tenderly soothed and rocked by his best friends mother.

"And what is the strongest reading you've had on that?" Veritas pressed. Severus caught Albus indicating that the question should be answered and the bald man sighed. His voice was flat as he answered, reluctance dragging at his mouth. All of which were excellent indicators for a future supporter of Harry Potter.

"Alastor Moody comes in at eighty nine point six, he holds the record as the strongest in the Department. Albus Dumbledore came in at one hundred and thirty two even. That's the strongest we have on record outside the Department."

"We need to perform that spell upon Mr Potter," Fudge announced, the avarice increasing in him like a cancer, one that Severus would be happy to cut out of him. He knew several appropriately painful curses that would work, "I would be remiss in my duty to the public if I allowed someone practicing dangerous Magic to go about untested."

The fact that the test would not prevent Harry from walking around, or practicing Magic as he chose was not pointed out. The words were merely grandstanding for the Press, even though Severus was alarmed at the notion of allowing anyone to cast anything at Harry. The boy was still on edge, and sending spells his way without warning would panic him badly. Severus listened as his mentor argued against the test, pointing out that Harry was blind and barely recovered from his initial ordeal.

"It won't hurt him, correct?" Fudge waited until Tonks nodded unhappily, her hair tinted a vile yellow, "Then we will explain the test carefully and allow him to witness a demonstration. I'm sure Auror Tonks won't mind being a test subject in this matter. Excellent, lets get it done!"

Severus followed the Minister, fuming silently. Harry had not gained any colour in their absence, though Severus admired the boys' façade of calm. He had told his tale simply, leaving out the details that could be manipulated by the Press and the Ministry, and withstood the admission of attempted rape quite well.

"Harry," Albus' voice was even gentler than usual, "There is a test that we need to perform."

"I didn't study," the softly uttered flippant remark would have incensed the Head of Slytherin once, but he now saw it for the bravado that it was. Harry was maintaining a very careful front, one that would allow them to underestimate him; an action that was positively Slytherin. Albus and Ron chuckled, though Miss Granger looked as though she had swallowed a hairbrush.

"This is a test that requires no preparation on your part," Albus displaced Molly Weasley easily, and explained in a quiet voice that they wished to test the strength of Harry's shield even as Harry burrowed into his embrace like a much younger child would.

"The spell will rebound towards the caster and dissipate upon contact with their wand, leaving behind an indicator of how strong the shield is," Albus tightened his arms when Harry made a distressed noise, "It will not harm the caster in any way, and it will not harm you at all. Even if you fail to raise your shield all the impact will do is disperse."

"I will go first Harry," Tonks spoke up, "Shacklebolt will cast at me, and I'll let it hit without casting. Then we'll do it again and I'll cast a really strong block. You'll see, it will be fine."

"He won't see," Severus snarled, thoroughly fed up with the lot of them, "He's blind."

"Severus," Albus warned him, and Severus glowered but backed down. He moved so he was standing behind the horrible chair that Albus was fond of conjuring and leaned minutely against it, knowing that Harry would feel the shift in the chair back and read his support in that action. He had discovered recently that the boy was remarkably intuitive.

"_Carpesheild!_" the purple spell rolled over Tonks and she didn't even grunt, though they all heard the spell fizz as it dispersed over her robes. Harry had tensed when the spell was cast but Weasley had squeezed his hand and quietened him. Shacklebolt waited until Tonks had drawn her wand and nodded to him before glancing at the boy in the chair and announcing she was ready aloud; the action forced Severus to reluctantly swallow his scathing reminder. The bald man counted to three and cast again.

"_Diamante!_" the shield blossomed into life, glowing faintly blue and the purple spell rebounded to be caught on Shacklebolt's wand tip. Figures glowed to life and Shacklebolt read them aloud for the benefit of the politician and reporter in their midst;

"Quite strong, seventy four point four."

"There you see? No problems at all. Up you get young man," Fudge urged immediately and it took all of Severus' willpower to not draw his wand and curse the politician with some kind of socially unacceptable and permanently disfiguring illness.

Harry stood cautiously and stepped forward with Weasley leading him to the spot that Tonks had stood. Weasley had to be ordered away, and went up in Severus estimation when he aimed a very creditably withering glare at the Minister for Magic, much to the distress of his parents.

"I'll count again, Harry. Just raise your shield as best you can. Remember, the spell won't hurt you if you can't do it, and it won't hurt me in the least when it rebounds," Kingsley's words made Snape shift impatiently. Harry was no coward. He had dealt with far worse than this, he didn't need to be coddled at all. It was the drain on his already depleted energy reserves that Severus was worried about. Harry nodded that he was ready and took a better stance, his feet slightly apart and knees flexed.

"_Carpesheild!_" the spell surged forth once again and smacked into something solid, rebounding so quickly that Shacklebolt had a job bringing his wand into play to catch it. Harry staggered and almost fell. Severus leapt forward to catch him, beating even Weasley who was closer.

"I've got you," he grunted and swept the feather light child into his arms, turning with swift steps to deposit him on the chair and touching his forehead, checking for fever. Harry was breathing hard and leant into the touch, just as he had when he was completely incapacitated. He was nearing the end of his endurance, and Severus wished he could order the pampered fire turkey that kept Albus as a pet to take the child to his bed.

"One hundred and fifty-seven," the words hung in the air, Shacklebolt's voice sounding shocked. Severus gasped in surprise, startling Harry. He soothed his charge with a gentle pat to the shoulder, looking around at the people in the Hall with them. The Weasley's and Granger looked shocked, though Albus did not. The Minster looked like he'd been slapped, it was a pity that he hadn't been, and Veritas appeared ready to soil herself in excitement.

"Twenty five points higher than the Headmaster!" Veritas breathed, "Oh what a fabulous article this will make."

"Show some decorum woman!" Severus snarled, disentangled himself from Harry and stood, blocking her view of the teen in the chair deliberately and very glad that they hadn't allowed her to bring a camera. She bristled, but Albus headed off their confrontation with his usual aplomb.

Pity.

"I trust that we are now done here?"

There was some further posturing from the Minister regarding the identity of the child he had just subjected to unnecessary Magic, which was quickly taken care of by the Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot, and the Aurors indicated that they had finished their investigation, made a copy of the memories in the pensieve and returned the originals to Severus. Weasley was now seated silently on the arm of Harry's chair, an arm around his shoulder in support. Arthur had perched on the footstool, though he wasn't touching Harry.

"Very well, I suppose we're done," Fudge eyed his assistant, and Percy - the second best brewer in the family - drew his wand to gather up the parchments he'd been taking minutes on. Severus was distracted by returning the last of the memories to his head, and therefore missed the highly distinctive wand movement in Harry's direction.

"_Finite Incantatum!_" the spell hit Harry and rebounded, knocking Weasley's glasses askew.

"What do you think you're doing?" the roar came from Shacklebolt, though Severus had no time to deal with the Minister's puppet. Harry was hyperventilating. Weasley had slipped into the chair with him and Harry was wrapped around the redhead, clutching him for security as his panic overwhelmed him. Arthur was on his feet, wand drawn and moving to stand before the teen protectively. Albus moved to deal with the threat and Severus dismissed the rest of the hall from his notice, secure in the knowledge that his mentor would shortly have them all in hand.

"It's alright mate, he's had the _impermeable_ spell on his glasses removed is all, they've gotten a bit smudged," Ron was muttering, then glanced up, "He's getting colder."

"Shock," Severus snapped and conjured a warm blanket, wrapping it around the occupants of the chair and ignoring the deep blue colour with its silver stars and border. He'd never had any luck conjuring decently coloured objects and refused to be embarrassed about it just now.

Fawkes erupted into the fall, fluttering to Harry's knee and singing softly, breaking through the panic and gradually calming the child. Albus finished telling off the people behind them and turned his attention to the grouping around the armchair. The Weasley's were standing close by, wands drawn to protect against further attack, not that Harry could see that.

"How is he?" the voice of his mentor was worried. Arthur moved aside to let Albus have full access as the Headmaster approached.

"Slipping into shock, we need to get him back," Severus reported quickly. Fudge approached them, looking faintly worried, though Severus would bet his best cauldron that he was more worried about how this would be reported in the Daily Prophet than the impact this was having on the traumatised teen currently trying to hide in his best friends arms.

"Just a little misunderstanding, right Harry?" Fudge reached out to pat the dark hair that was all that could be seen of Harry Potter. Before Severus could take the idiotic mans arm off with a well-placed cutting spell the Phoenix in Harry's lap hissed.

For a Light creature to reject a person in such a manner was a serious mark against their character. To do it to the Minister of Magic could get him removed from office. Fudge chuckled nervously, repeated the inane line about a misunderstanding and reached out again.

Fawkes hissed again and shifted, dragging the blanket down and exposing the trembling boy in his friend's arms. The Phoenix kept up his hissing and glowed red. Severus glanced up at his mentor and couldn't control a small gasp of surprise as Albus' aura also glowed red, power flaring around him in response to his bond mates' denial of Fudge. A flick of the pale wand in his mentors hand and the Minister was flung away from them all, into the arms of the Aurors who wasted no time in securing the man in a firm grip and removing his wand.

Weasley gasped, and Severus turned to look at him. Harry was also glowing, a deeply golden colour, concentrated around the hand he was holding up in preparation to defend or attack.

A moment later the Phoenix calmed and trilled in a soothing manner. The aura of power faded from Albus and Harry and Fawkes took flight, swooping down to catch hold of the armchair and flashing away from the fantastic events that had just unfolded, leaving pandemonium in his wake.

0o0o0o0

…_outraged Healer in pursuit…_

Ron rubbed his head and stirred on the bed a little, moving as far as Harry would let him. His friend had been in a right state when Fawkes had returned them to Harry's bedroom, and had refused to let go of the blanket or Ron, no matter how Ron had cajoled him. In the end to avoid a return to hysteria Ron had carried Harry to the bed and climbed in with him. Fawkes had cooed in approval, adjusted Harry's blanket and then disappeared.

Harry had gone to sleep, his body warming against Ron, which had soothed Ron's worries about shock and illness happening when there was no one else around to help him care for Harry. The sky outside had slowly faded into twilight, and then darkness, and given that it was summer that took quite some time. Fawkes deposited Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Snape in the room just as the quarter moon was rising and hurried to the bed.

"he's warmed up and is sleeping peacefully," Ron had whispered to them, and saw the Headmaster actually slump in relief. Snape had ushered the elderly Wizard off to bed and then stopped by to double check that they didn't need anything else. Ron reassured him they were fine and settled down to sleep.

He'd had breakfast in bed, sitting up as best he could with Harry resisting every attempt to disentangle, and the Headmaster had cast a waste elimination charm on him that had relieved the pressure of needing to leave the bed for a while longer. Both adults had appeared slightly better rested, though they didn't stay once he reassured them that he'd stay and guard Harry's sleep.

Whatever else came of the interview debacle, it seemed clear to Ron that the Minister for Magic was going to be replaced. He thought that was a good thing, depending on who replaced the current idiot. He wished his dad would try for it, but Arthur Weasley was not a politician and would never consider running. Arthur disliked the machinations of politics, preferring to be straightforward in his dealings with others. Even when he had to Obliviate Muggles his dad was honest about it. It was something that Ron appreciated in his father, the ability to walk a fine line with the truth but not honesty. His dad might not tell them the full story, might tell them part of the story or might imply that there was more to the story than they thought, but he was always honest with them and expected honesty in return.

Hermione had looked horrified to see Harry, and Ron was almost glad that Harry hadn't had to see the pitying looks she kept directing at him. True, Harry looked like a walking skeleton at the moment, his skin stretched tightly over his bones and far too pale to be healthy, but that didn't mean he'd changed where it mattered and Harry had always hated being stared at, even by his friends.

Ron was broken from his musing by Harry stirring beside him and taking a deep breath. A glance down at the head pillowed on his chest showed Harry's eyes fluttering open, and Ron tightened his grip protectively. He waited until he was sure that Harry was awake before asking,

"How are you feeling?" an asinine question, but one that was important, because if Harry was feeling unwell then Ron was going to activate the emergency portkey that Albus had left behind.

"Warm," Harry mumbled and rubbed his face on Ron's chest like a cat, "Safe."

"No one would attack the Headmasters summer home, even if they could find it," Ron agreed and then frowned when Harry shook his head and lifted his head, gazing blindly in Ron's direction.

"I'm safe because you're here," Harry clarified and Ron blushed so hard that he was sure his friend could feel the heat radiating from his glowing face. He wasn't sure how to respond; he'd never felt like this before, a complex mixture of fierce pride, desire to protect, love and companionship as well as an urge to gather Harry up and… well Ron wasn't sure what he'd do but the urge was there. He was saved from having to reply by Harry's frown and shifting in the bed.

"I need the loo," Harry mumbled, a faint flush of colour creeping over his cheeks and Ron grinned, letting him go cautiously, not wanting to trigger a bout of panic. Harry scooted to the edge of the bed and eased himself off it, still clad in the quilted blue dressing gown and pyjamas that Dumbledore had given him. He'd been wearing slippers, though Ron had managed to get them off him once Harry had settled into a deeper sleep last night. Ron sat up and swung his own legs over the side of the bed, stooping to collect the soft purple shoes and moving around the bed to position them in front of Harry.

"Slippers in front of your feet," he told his friend, remembering their bargain. Harry toed into the shoes and stood, taking a deep breath and stepping forward hesitantly. Ron walked behind him, ready to stop him from walking into a door or piece of furniture. He let Harry pull the door almost closed once at the bathroom and waited patiently for Harry to finish washing his hands once done. He sensed that they were going to end up in an argument if he went with his instincts and bundled Harry straight back to bed, preferably carrying him the whole way. Better to let Harry make the choices for now and hope that he didn't try to over extend himself.

"Downstairs or bed?" Ron asked as the door opened fully. Harry thought about it and then sighed.

"I'd like to go into the garden if there's somewhere to sit. I want to feel the sun," he confessed, and Ron caved spinelessly in the face of such an innocent request, "Would that be ok?"

"Should be, I can drag a sofa out there for us," Ron confirmed, hoping that Albus wouldn't mind them doing that. Harry could do with a bit of sun after being locked up, and Ron hoped that the warmth would also help his friend relax a bit. Harry turned towards the stairs and then hesitated, his hand sneaking out towards Ron who took it without comment.

The sofa actually walked out the door on its own, to Ron's surprise. He kept forgetting that the Headmaster was a transfiguration specialist and appreciated the way the mobile furniture settled into a shady nook that would catch the warmth of the patio stones and the scents of the plants that grew in a wild fragrant tangle around the edges of the paved area.

Ron left Harry sitting on the couch with his face turned up to the sky and went back inside to fetch some food for them both and the blanket that Severus had conjured. He had a feeling that Harry would want it when he went back to sleep and sure enough Harry sacked out like a little kid at nap time not long after they'd finished their sandwiches and water. There was something vulnerable about the way Harry wrapped himself in the blanket and curled up against Ron.

Ron had the foresight to bring a couple of books and his battered chess set out with him, and was immersed in a chapter on warping spells when the Headmaster arrived with Madam Pomfrey in tow. Albus looked a little beleaguered, and from the way Madam Pomfrey was scowling at the Headmaster Ron guessed he was in trouble with the school Matron for not contacting her sooner.

"Neither of you are qualified Healers, and with the poor child's Magic in a state of flux anything could have happened!" she scolded as soon as Fawkes came to rest on the back of the couch, and her wand was out and approaching Harry before anyone could say otherwise. Harry stirred in his blanket and sighed. He didn't wake though, something that Ron was grateful for as the Matron waved the blanket back and examined him with deft and gentle hands.

The examination was quick, which was a good thing as Harry began to shiver and search for his blanket. She waved her wand and it drew itself up again, and Ron patted Harry on the back until he settled again with a vaguely happy hum and a little wriggle.

"And whose idea was it to let the boy out of bed?" the Matron stood back and Ron raised a hand quietly. Before she could scold him he put a finger to his lips, indicating a need for quiet. He would never have dared to be so bold with the Matron in school, but here with his instincts to protect and nurture Harry had been newly awoken in a way he'd never before considered, it seemed of no real concern to tell an adult that they needed to listen to him.

"Harry wanted to feel the sun on his face," Ron murmured in a tone that fairly dared her to complain, "The sofa walked itself out here and he went to sleep after lunch."

"At least you fed him first," she grumbled and waved Albus and Severus into the house brusquely. They followed with resigned expressions and Ron turned his head away so they couldn't see him grin. Even Albus Dumbledore couldn't stand against an outraged Healer in pursuit of her Craft… or patient in this case.

0o0o0o0


	13. frivolous stars and all

…_frivolous stars and all…_

It was a very weary three days before Albus had another chance to spend time with young Harry, not that the brief glimpse he'd had after the disaster with Fudge had been a proper amount of time. Fawkes released them onto the back patio and he was greeted with the sight of Harry sleeping on his second best couch still wrapped in the blanket that Severus had conjured for him, frivolous stars and all. Severus huffed in a tired way and Albus smiled at his protégé, patting his arm in commiseration.

"Why on earth he continues to use that ridiculous thing is beyond me," Severus grumped, but Albus could see the well-hidden gleam of pleasure his Potions Master was trying to conceal completely. Most people didn't value Severus as he deserved, a situation that led to him withdrawing even more from the world around him. It was a vicious cycle, and one that Albus had struggled with all through their association. Small signs of acceptance like this one were hoarded away, providing they withstood 'the test'.

Ron Weasley came out of the house, wiping his hands dry on faded and well-worn jeans, smiling at them happily. If not for the presence of this young man the situation would be unmanageable. While Albus wasn't completely happy to leave Harry in the care of another teenager, he knew that trying to split his attention between Harry and so many others would only hurt the boy in the long run. Better to visit only when he could devote himself to the child, and ensure that Harry knew how much Albus wanted to be at his side when they were forced apart.

"We have made most shameless use of you, young Ron," Albus murmured as the teen came to stand beside them and Ron smiled at him. The young man was almost as tall as Albus, though not quite as tall as Severus… yet.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," Ron replied honestly, "Harry needs me, and we're muddling through ok."

"Why on earth is he still using that ridiculous thing?" Severus asked in a low voice and Ron smiled at his sleeping friend. Acerbic questions like this were the basis of the 'test' and Ron passed it unconsciously, with flying colours.

"He says that it feels warmer than any other blanket I've presented him with, and believe me I tried a few. I wasn't sure how permanent your conjuring was Severus, but Harry says it feels the best to him so I don't argue and let him get on with it," Ron shrugged, "He sleeps a lot after meals, and all night through, and to be honest I just want him comfortable."

"That is to be expected," Albus nodded, and reminded Ron that Poppy had said Harry would feel cold even in the heat of summer because he was so badly underweight, and he was going to need a lot of sleep to recover his energy as well.

"He is eating a little more, at least he's finishing what he starts instead of flaking out half way," Ron smiled, "And I can leave him to sleep for a little while now; before he'd wake if I got up."

"How long is a while?" Severus asked and Harry stirred. Ron grinned and shrugged as his friend took a deep breath and sat up.

"About thirty minutes," the redhead replied as Albus left them to join Harry on the couch.

"Hello dear boy," he settled an arm hesitantly around the teen and was gratified when Harry leant into it. He didn't want to crowd the boy, but at the same time something about Harry just cried out for affection. The dark haired teen drew his knees up and leant into his side, his tousled head resting on Albus shoulder.

"Hello Albus," Harry's voice was warm and sleepy, like a small child, "Do you have time to stay for a little while? Is Severus here too?"

"A few days at the least this time, and yes, Severus is here," Albus promised and Harry lifted his head, as if looking for the Potions Master. It was a little heart breaking, that their boy hadn't given up on those little habits of the sighted.

"Hello Harry," Severus' voice was calm, "How are you feeling?"

"Warm," was the literal reply, the bony hands gathering the blanket closer in an unconscious movement, also passing the 'test' that Severus applied to the recipient of his conjuring, "Safe. Glad that you're both here."

"As we are," Severus replied gently and Harry smiled at the comment, happy that others were happy. Ron made himself comfortable on the flagstones and Severus conjured a dark brown club chair, sinking into it and picking at the orange tassels in a dissatisfied manner.

"Has there been a lot of trouble?" Ron asked from his comfortable sprawl, and Harry turned his head into Albus' shoulder a little. Albus rubbed the teen's arm gently and sighed.

"Minister Fudge was removed from office," he confirmed reluctantly, not wanting to put the boys into the position of having to guess. He had learnt the hard way that Harry did better with more information than less, "There will be elections just after your birthday Harry. The Daily Prophet printed as much scandal in the worst possible terms as they could, and have been officially censured by the Wizengamot. They have lost several influential backers, and several critical advertising contracts. Those have gone over to their lesser-circulated rival Wizarding Times and the Quibbler. If things continue in this vein the Prophet will have destroyed itself in the next month. The editing team appear to have lost their heads and are lashing out in print at anyone they can think of."

"Good," Ron muttered, "That rag needed closing down."

"Indeed," Severus droned in approval, and Harry bit his lip, wriggling a little closer to Albus. The elderly Wizard made him comfortable and waited until he was settled again before mentioning this next controversial subject.

"Percy Weasley has lost his position at the Ministry," Albus tightened his grip when Harry made an upset sound in the back of his throat, "Although it was proved under Veritaserum that he was following the former Minister's orders, it was made clear to him that the only reason he wasn't sent to Azkaban for assault was that you were not strong enough to endure a public trial. Forgive me for using you in this way Harry, but I felt that you wouldn't want to see Percy in such a place."

"No," Harry agreed, "I don't. He's a git, but he's Ron's family, and after what I saw the prison did to Sirius, and Hagrid…and after all he didn't hurt me…"

"Why on earth he cast that spell is beyond me though," Ron piped up, anger at his elder brother clearly stamped on his young face, "What was he trying to cancel?"

"The Minister wished to ensure that he was not speaking to someone under a glamour," Severus spoke up, "A finite would cancel the glamour."

"Polyjuice potion," Harry mumbled, and Albus shook his head, understanding the meaning behind the words right away, a hard won skill that had been tested in the harshest of conditions.

"Anyone who used a hair from you would have become a healthy version of you, which would have been highly suspicious given your recent ordeal," he replied, "The potion would change the person taking it into a mirror image of you before your incarceration, because that is how old any available sample of you would be. A person under poly juice can not also be under a glamour, the potion makes them resistant."

"What about if Harry had been played by a metamorphmagus?" Ron suggested, and Harry tipped his head back curiously.

"The Ministry knows where all Metamorphmagus are in Britain at all times, to avoid one with a criminal bent from impersonating others for gain. That was one of the reasons Tonks was at our meeting, she would have been able to detect another Metamorphmagus at once," Albus replied, "No, the only thing that made sense for an impersonator was a glamour, and as they would have to have been charmed to appear like you, and then charmed to appear in such poor health the _finite_ would have at the very least caused a ripple in your appearance."

"But the spell never hit me," Harry sighed, "I deflected it straight back at Percy."

"Who got his glasses smudged," Ron grinned, "He hates that. Serves him right. Wait until the brothers catch up with him."

"He was following an order from his boss, Ron," Harry replied wearily. Obviously the boys had discussed this several times in the last three days, "What would you have done?"

"I'd have taken my bollocks out of my bosses drawer and told him where to shove his orders!" Ron replied hotly, then blushed and glanced at Albus and Severus. Albus chuckled lightly and patted Harry who was on the verge of snickering.

"Such a charming image, Weasley," Severus droned, eyes fastened on Harry's face. The tone did it, and Harry snickered lightly, before yawning widely, a blanket covered hand coming up to hide his mouth.

"Sorry," he apologised in a mumble, "I'm tired… again."

"And you will be for some time," Albus confirmed and shifted Harry so he was lying down a little more, "You have been through a very harrowing experience and your reserves are totally depleted. You have plenty of time to rest here, and no one will mind if you sleep for a while."

He stroked the tousled dark hair under his hand and Harry slid down to curl up on the couch, his head resting in Albus lap. Albus continued his ministrations until he felt Harry relax completely, his breathing evening out into the rhythm of sleep.

That Harry would trust him so much was a great relief to Albus after their argument at the end of the last school year, and that knowledge helped him to relax into well-earned sleep as well.

0o0o0o0

Severus had to admit that Weasley had taken good care of Harry, and had even been able to assist the boy in learning the layout of the house to a limited extent. Harry was able to move around independently, though his movement was slow and still a little hesitant, and was able to see to his own personal needs without fuss. Meal preparation was beyond him, due to both his lack of sight and lack of strength, though he consumed his food neatly enough.

Albus had estimated that they would have a week with the boy before the outside world demanded their attention again, and Severus devoted that week to teaching Harry spells. Granger had sent Albus a long letter with a request to pass a long list of spells to Harry, so that he would be able to cope with his sudden lack of light. Severus thought it a little presumptuous of the girl, not to mention insulting, to assume that the Headmaster of Hogwarts didn't already know what Harry needed and have the tools on hand to assist him. Typical Gryffindor arrogance really, to assume that only members of their House planned ahead.

There were several charms and spells that Harry would need to enable him to negotiate the house safely, though those would take a lot of practice to become second nature, and there were a few more that would enable him to 'read' independently, as well as research. Severus believed that Harry would be capable of learning the Language of Books, something that only serious scholars bothered with. To his knowledge, only three Ravenclaw's in the past ten years had bothered to learn the language, which was highly intuitive to the 'style' of the Wizard or Witch using it. Being able to talk to a book and have it reply was something that scholars found highly useful.

As Harry's strength was still appallingly low, Severus was forced to limit his teaching sessions with the boy each day. Harry spent a lot of time sleeping, and Severus had a chance to observe first hand how the teen preferred the blanket he had conjured in the Great Hall to any other in the house. It was an unexpected form of approval, one that he sneered at outwardly.

In their daily contact, Harry was eager to learn, seeing each spell as another step towards true independence, a goal that Severus approved of. No matter that the child was blind now, he still had a prophecy hanging over his head, which meant that blind or not, Harry would still have to fight the Dark Lord. It was a prospect that chilled Severus to the bone. He had noted how careful Ron was to offer only the minimal amount of help that Harry would need, though he had often observed the redhead standing with his hands clenched at his side, his teeth worrying his lower lip. That the redhead was able to overcome the Gryffindor tendency to leap in and solve a problem with unthinking swiftness was a note in the teens favour, something that he would not have been in a position to recognise only weeks ago.

In the Wizarding world, things continued apace. The news of Lucius Malfoy's death, coupled with the removal of the Minister had not done the House of Malfoy many favours, and his heir was suffering a lack of popularity as a result of this; not that Draco wasn't more than arrogant enough in his own way to tolerate this loss in true Malfoy style. Draco had been raised to certain standards after all, and he followed them without thought. It was this unthinking belief in a set of imposed ideas that galled Severus so much; belief should come through effort and conscious consideration, as he had sorely learnt.

With the preparation for elections coming up, along with careful scrutiny of all candidates to ensure they were not in any way affiliated with or tainted by association with the Dark Lord, not to mention preparation for the school year, the shift in power in the field of the printed media and consideration of young Harry's future schooling, the coming weeks promised to be an active one.

0o0o0o0


	14. faintly insulted

…_faintly insulted…_

Harry wasn't sure what it was that triggered the realisation he would not be returning to Hogwarts as a student. The knowledge was a blow, as it meant that he would lose the support of both Albus and Severus, and lose Ron's much needed companionship. Ron was quick to realise that Harry had discovered their impending separation, and also quick to offer to throw away his own future in order to stay with Harry. As much as he wanted Ron at his side, Harry couldn't bear to be that selfish.

Albus noted the downswing in his mood, Harry was sure of it, though the Headmaster didn't press Harry to speak of his troubles. He was relieved that the older Wizard wasn't pressuring him to talk, well aware that the Headmaster was a big believer in 'getting things out in the open' when it came to traumatic or upsetting events. Given that the man was already ignoring, or at least choosing to forget, the fact that Harry hadn't confided the details of his torture, it was a consideration that Harry hadn't been expecting.

Severus also noted his mild depression, but chose to simply work him harder at the spells he needed to master to gain independence. The Language of Books was fascinating, and Harry was picking it up quite quickly, a fact that he was proud of. The other spells took a bit more concentration, and as he was still sleeping for most of the afternoon and all night, concentration was in short supply. Knowing he was going to lose them all to Hogwarts made Harry want to spend as much time as possible with them, not in lessons but in play. Or at least the sort of play you could do with the Headmaster of Hogwarts and the Head of Slytherin House. The Headmaster would take him for walks around the garden, bring him 'mystery objects' to deduce through touch, play cards with him, though Harry had to be taught to play things other than Exploding Snap, and talk to him about all manner of things he had seen and done in his long life.

Severus joined in the card games and accompanied them on the walks though he disapproved of the way that Albus held Harry's hand. Ron did his best not to fuss over the fact that only the Headmaster could lead Harry along when no one else was allowed. His redhead still wanted to coddle him to some extent, though Harry was aware he hadn't helped matters when he'd clung to Ron in a panic and refused to let go.

At night when everyone else was asleep, Harry thought about the future. He knew that he couldn't demand that Albus stay with him, and despite the fact that they were getting along better now, he didn't think that Severus would be willing to give up his position at the school either. Ron of course had an education to complete, and Harry doubted that Mr and Mrs Weasley would be too impressed if their youngest son decided to throw away his education to baby sit his best mate. Several nights of thinking brought Harry to the conclusion that he was going to have to find a 'babysitter' as the Muggles called it, and another night of thinking led him to choose the Weasley's. For starters they'd benefit from the extra protections that the Burrow was sure to be given if he was residing there, and he knew that Mrs Weasley would quickly get into the habit of letting him do for himself. Although she had held him tightly in their brief time together he'd also heard her tut of disapproval when Ron had led him along to the chair in the Great Hall.

Having come to this private decision, Harry now had to grapple with how to discuss this with Albus. He also had to be careful about how his friend took the decision, after all he didn't want to just announce to Ron that he was expecting his friend to leave him with his mother, and he didn't want to upset Albus by implying that he expected the Headmaster to drop him off at the Burrow and continue on his merry way either. Harry was well aware of how many things the Headmaster must be putting off in order to spend so much time with him, and he appreciated it. Albus Dumbledore was a very busy and important man, and while it could be argued that he should be concerned with the welfare of the Boy Who Lived, Harry's upbringing didn't let him see it that way. Anyone who took a moment to kindly consider him was to be treated with grateful respect, not taken for granted.

In the end, Albus brought the subject up just prior to Harry's birthday. Harry was spending more time awake during the day, as he had more energy and felt a lot better. The terrible weakness that had plagued his waking moments was dissipating, and Harry was relieved about that. After all, he needed to be strong if he was to fulfil the prophecy. Harry knew that the three people caring for him had some sort of birthday surprise in the wings, and was cautiously probing and dropping hints to see if he could figure out what it was. They were trying to distract him of course, and Harry thought that Albus brought up the end of summer as a sort of distraction.

They were in the garden - Harry's favourite place as he still disliked the constraining feeling of walls around him, though that had abated somewhat, and they were walking down the path towards the stile that led into the forest. Harry had become very familiar with this path, despite the fact that Albus still insisted on holding his hand. Harry didn't mind, the Headmaster got terribly upset if Harry stumbled or fell, something that was luckily becoming a rare occurrence thanks in no small part to Severus' training in various spells, and it was nice to have someone grown up be so solicitous of him.

They had been talking about the plants around them, and Ron had offered to do a bit of gardening provided Harry supervised him, the redheads sneaky way of getting Harry some free time to carefully explore a new part of the garden without anyone watching him crawl around and sniff things, when the Headmaster mentioned that one of the plants would need pruning at the end of summer.

"We can do it before I go to the Burrow," Harry took the chance to bring up his solution to his future housing needs and was surprised that Albus nearly stumbled. The Headmaster stopped dead on the path and even Severus, who had come along for a change instead of brewing in the house, seemed astonished if his swiftly drawn in breath was anything to go by.

"What are you on about Harry?" they might have been getting along better, but that didn't stop the man from using an acerbic tone on the teens when they were 'talking rubbish'.

"Well, you and the Headmaster have to go back to Hogwarts, and Ron's parents aren't going to let him stay out of school so… I just thought that meant I'd be going to the Burrow when school went back. I know I can't go to class like this. The first spell to hit me would bounce back, and that would be dangerous, so it's better to stay away, and if I go to the Burrow, Ron's mum and dad will benefit from the extra protections that will go with me."

It was all so logical to Harry that he was unsure why they seemed so lost for words.

"Harry, you wouldn't expect someone to stay here with you?" Albus asked and Harry squeezed the hand that was holding his. Albus had made a few trips to the 'outside world' as Harry thought of it, coming home tired and drained. He couldn't run the school and care for Harry at the same time.

"It's not that I don't want you here sir, its that I understand how important your job is," Harry said simply, "I don't expect you to give it up, and I'd feel better knowing that you were at the school to protect the students anyway."

"And you expect me to leave as well?" Severus sounded faintly insulted, which meant that Harry had said something that hurt his feelings. Severus tended to take insult when you implied that he was not up to a task.

"You're the school Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House. You've already had to do a lot of brewing here for the school stores. I didn't think that Albus could spare you to baby-sit just me, Severus. Slytherin needs you, and so does Albus," Harry pointed it out as matter-of-factly as he could, knowing the proud man would only get more offended if Harry tried to soothe his feelings. Ron hadn't spoken up, but Harry simply knew, the way they always knew about each other, that his friend had seen the sense of the matter. There was no way that the redhead could stay and take care of Harry by himself during term time. It had been different when Harry was first hurt, but now that things had settled down there was no way to justify him staying. Harry wished it otherwise, and felt horribly selfish about the whole thing, but he knew how much he relied on Ron's presence every day and wasn't looking forward to losing that comfort and level of understanding that they had with each other.

"I'm taking a sabbatical," Severus recalled him to the moment with those sharp words, "Albus and I have already hired a replacement teacher and organised a temporary Head of House. I wish to conduct some research, and Albus and I both thought that you would not object to my company."

"I wouldn't," Harry confirmed with a smile, "I just didn't want to be in anyone's way."

"You won't be," there was a faintly menacing tone to that reply, but Harry didn't mind it. He grinned in the direction of the Potions Master and let Albus tug him down the path once more. He'd have to talk to Ron of course, his friend had been surprisingly quiet during this discussion, but otherwise things had gone surprisingly well.

He was looking forward to staying here - the house had become a safe haven, much as the school had when he was first a student there.

0o0o0o0


	15. atonal rubbish

…_atonal rubbish…_

Harry's birthday dawned clear, and Albus spent some time alone that morning preparing a special breakfast. Severus was usually up before him, but Albus knew that his Potions Master was tired from the brewing of the new formula for Wolfsbane. It had to be brewed when the moon was precisely half full, and that phase had fallen last night. Lupin would be here this morning, courtesy of Fawkes, to take the new potion and also to celebrate Harry's birthday with him. Miss Granger and the Weasley family were also attending, though Albus had paid the twins a personal visit to warn them against any pranks or spell casting in his home.

Harry would not react well to an unexpected jinx, however friendly it was meant, and Severus would be outright homicidal. Their young charge was growing more confident every day, and his use of wandless Magic was increasing, though Albus hadn't wanted to point that out to Harry. He had originally intended to get Harry fitted with a new wand, perhaps arranging a clandestine appointment for the boy with Ollivander, but Severus had argued against such a move.

"As long as he is casting confidently, it would be wise to encourage the boys skill," the taciturn man had stated and in the end Albus had bowed to his arguments. He had extracted a promise from Severus that the man would report to him the moment Harry needed a wand - some spells apparently could not be adapted wandlessly, seeming to rely on the movement as much as the incantation - and Severus had agreed. Albus could see how it would be useful for Harry to be able to defend himself without the wand, his impressive shield aside. It was no use protecting yourself from Magic if you couldn't unlock the door that was holding you back from escape. And Harry's shield didn't protect him from physical harm, such as a blow to the head. It would be better that he be able to get out of traps instead of relying on an imperfect shield once inside one.

There was movement on the stairs and Albus looked up in time to see Harry step off the last one, young Ron close behind him. The redhead had proven to be a blessing to them all, a source of comfort to Harry and a reliable assistant to Albus and Severus. Harry was dressed in the clothes that Albus had laid out for him last night, an early birthday gift. The teen had previously been wearing pyjamas and a house robe, but Albus felt that he would appreciate being more normally attired today for his visitors.

"Harry! Happy birthday!" Albus beamed, pleased that the clothes were a good fit. Harry was still far too thin, making it difficult to buy in his size. Severus was continuing with his plan of foisting potions on the child, which had resulted in a small weight gain. Harry crossed the living area to Albus confidently and put out his arms for a hug. The teen was still happy to accept physical affection, a boon from one that had been maltreated so badly. Albus gathered him close and let Harry burrow his face into his beard.

"There were times when I wondered if I'd make this birthday," the quiet confession made Albus tighten his grip, as if someone would suddenly appear and try to remove Harry from his arms, "Thank you Albus."

"For what?" the Headmaster was honestly bewildered what he could be receiving thanks for. Harry seemed to need so little beyond care for his physical ailments, and those were rapidly fading into the background as he recovered more strength and learnt the skills that would grant independence. That Harry was so fierce about being able to stand on his own two feet was something that Albus approved of and admired, well aware that Harry was pandering to an old mans wishes and not fussing when Albus took his hand to walk in the garden.

"For sending me help, for risking Severus for me," the whisper made his eyes sting. Harry had tried to escape from his cell with a relentless iron will, not because he wanted to be free but because he hadn't believed that anyone was coming. He hadn't believed the Order would sacrifice another member, let alone a highly placed Spy to save him. Even knowing his importance through the Prophecy, Harry had not expected rescue unless he made an effort to free himself first.

"I'd have sent him to you sooner if I could," Albus choked, aware that Ron was hovering by the French windows, looking out at the sunlit garden but also paying some attention to the men in the kitchen, "Dearest child, I couldn't…"

"I know," Harry seemed to sense his upset and was petting his chest gently, as if to soothe him, "You had to wait until he was summoned. He would have been killed if he hadn't waited for Voldemort to call for him. It was too big a risk."

Which was true, but hearing the victim of horrific torture justify any delay in his rescue, a victim that was still a child in many ways, was enough to make Albus want to throw up. Harry was paying a very dear price for his existence, and the knowledge that some of the price had been placed upon him by Albus' decisions was breaking Albus heart.

Albus made a supreme effort and got himself in hand, calming his breathing and using a wordless spell to dry his tears. Harry deserved to be happy today of all days, and the child would be upset if he detected how much those simple words had hurt his Headmaster. They had been innocently said, devoid of malice and intent, containing only factual acceptance of what had happened; Albus would rather have his beard pulled out by an irate house elf than let Harry know how deeply they had wounded him.

Across the room, Ron's stomach rumbled and Harry laughed, a light sound that warmed Albus clear through. The redhead was blushing, shooting an apologetic and concerned look at Albus, who managed a smile in reply.

"I think that's Ron's way of asking when is breakfast," Harry teased and then blushed when his own stomach growled. Albus patted his back and eased away cautiously, letting Harry break their embrace and step back.

"Right away," Albus replied, his voice once more light-hearted, "I have it all prepared already. Go out onto the patio boys, I'll bring it out. Although if you wouldn't mind hunting up Severus, Ron…"

"No need," Severus swept down the stairs abruptly, making Albus suspect that their former spy had been engaging in his former occupation, "I'll help you carry things out, Albus."

Harry went without complaint, though he would usually insist on carrying something out, or helping in some way; today he was not permitted to lift a finger, by prior request. Harry's independence was hard won and fiercely protected: Albus loved him for it and took pride in him daily. Today of all days, Harry would know that.

0o0o0o0

Although it would have taken torture of a particularly pernicious kind for him to actually say it out loud, Severus knew that Harry Potter was not as blind to those around him as previously thought. Though the boy moved in everlasting darkness, he had seen how upset Albus had been by his innocently meant reassurances this morning, a scene that Severus had witnessed from the stairs, and had set out to alleviate that unintentional pain in the company of his friends.

Harry had eaten a decent breakfast, almost half of the portion that Severus himself ate, and the Headmaster had long been berating his Potions Master for his light eating habits. He and Weasley had then helped with the washing up, or to be more accurate, Harry had sat upon the counter top and talked to Severus and Ron while they had washed and dried and put away with a combination of manual labour and Magic. Severus had discussed the upcoming election with them and they had gone over the candidates, trying to separate stalking horses from Death Eaters and genuine candidates. Fudge was Minister in name only at the moment, the Ministry itself had gone into 'caretaker' mode, which meant that no new laws or actions could be enabled until a new Minister had been appointed. There was talk of subjecting each candidate to veritaserum and a cleansing ritual that would reveal any who had been Marked, an unheard of precedent.

Albus had taken the time offered by their conversation to compose himself, for which Severus was grateful. Fawkes and passenger had arrived just as they finished and Harry had hopped off the counter to hug the werewolf, patting his back happily and asking how he was. Lupin was as threadbare as ever, and there seemed to be a few more strands of grey in his hair than there had been previously. His voice was light-hearted, but there was sorrow deep in his gaze whenever he looked at Harry. Severus made a mental note to tell the creature to buck up, after all Potter had looked a thousand times worse only weeks ago.

Granger and the Weasley family arrived not long after, and the patio was filled with noise and voices. There was the usual round of hugs and exclamations; even Arthur Weasley had gathered their charge into a gentle embrace, one large hand curving protectively over the back of Harry's skull. Harry had requested that the gathering be held outside, weather permitting, and Albus had agreed readily. It was easier to convert the low stone walls edging the patio into benches and tables, and Harry sought the feeling of sunlight on his face at every opportunity. Ron had compared this new trait to that of a sun seeking flower and been soundly walloped with a throw cushion for his pains, much to Albus' undisguised amusement.

Eventually they all settled down and the presentation of gifts was made. There were several books from Remus, Albus and Severus, which Harry examined minutely, using his ever-expanding knowledge of the Language of Books to facilitate this. Granger became thoroughly over-excited at this and it took the teens several minutes to stem her floodtide of questions. It was a well-developed and finely tuned skill, one that they had evidently learned in self-defence. Severus often wondered why the girl wasn't in Ravenclaw, though she was a bit more boisterous than members of that studious house usually were. Molly and Arthur presented Harry with a winter weight robe, the brushed wool in very good condition for all that it was clearly 'pre-loved'. Harry beamed at them anyway and leaned into their hugs. The nefarious Twins had even come up with a suitable present for a convalescent, a set of slippers in garish Gryffindor colours that vibrated gently to massage the wearers' feet and had a heating charm built in. Granger produced two presents, one from her and one from her parents who had apparently insisted on sending him something for his recovery. Granger's book of spells was inevitably designed to cater to what the book described as the 'sight impaired', and what Harry promptly translated into 'blind as a bat'. The boy had yet to complain of his lack of sight, in fact often made jokes about it with them, a state that Severus assumed was covering for his true feelings. The Potions Master was not inclined to disturb this apparent acceptance at the moment, preferring to wait until Harry had more strength to deal with the no doubt emotional issue.

Granger's parents had sent Harry a slim shiny case, with garish colours underneath it that opened to a shiny wafer of Muggle plastic.

"It's a CD!" Granger moaned, "I'm sorry Harry, I guess they thought you'd like something to listen to but of course you don't have anything to play it on here… Muggle things won't work."

"Perhaps…" Albus leant over the thing curiously, as did Arthur Weasley, and Harry chuckled, surrendering his gift to the curious Wizards easily.

"How does it work, precisely?" Arthur asked, turning it over and prodding it with his wand. Severus expected that Harry would not get the thing back in its original condition, but the boy didn't seem to mind. For someone who had spent a childhood deprived of comfort and gifts he was very generous with his possessions, even the new ones he hadn't had a chance to thoroughly use. As a case in point he had promptly loaned one of his new books to Ronald and the werewolf when they had expressed interest.

"It's like a gramophone record, only instead of grooves and dips, the sound is recorded in a code that can be read by a special kind of light, which then translates it into sound and broadcasts it over speakers," Harry said lightly, "The light is highly concentrated in a narrow beam, called a laser. It can be very dangerous if misused."

"Hmm," Albus murmured and disappeared inside to fetch the wind-up gramophone that sat in the nook underneath the stairs. The trumpet of the thing was painted royal blue with flowers and vines on it, and they had spent an evening listening to some instrumental music after Harry had asked about Wizard composers during a conversation with his friend. The music had put Harry to sleep and Albus had carried the boy up the stairs to his bed rather than wake him. They often used the gramophone in the evenings now, and Severus was hoping to instruct the boy in the finer points of classical music. Or at least wean him away from the terrible atonal rubbish that his peers liked.

With the gramophone and disk in place, spell casting ensued, but Severus was too busy monitoring Harry and those around him to pay much attention. He didn't trust the twin troublemakers an inch, and the youngest Weasley had to be discouraged from interfering with Harry's range of movement and independence, though her mother was also monitoring _that_ situation. Molly Weasley was not likely to allow Harry to become too overwhelmed with assistance, the woman must have picked up that the green eyed teen was determined to shift for himself as best he could, after all she had more than enough experience reading the actions and motivations of children given her pack of brats.

At lunchtime they sang Happy Birthday to Harry, and he cut a large cake with some 'assistance' from his well-wishers, who offered a variety of directions that ranged from useful to deliberately misleading. Harry didn't seem to mind the teasing, and managed to produce several ragged looking slices before giving up and handing the knife over to Molly, chuckling as he admitted defeat. Rather than simply cutting the cake, Molly taught him a spell that would produce even slices, and Harry mastered it on his second cast, impressing his guests.

"All right Severus?" their charge asked as he handed over a neat slice and fork before settling at his side with his own portion. His face was happy though he looked a little tired. By now Harry had stopped napping for most of the afternoon, though he would sometimes doze a little while dinner was being prepared if he wasn't involved in the preparations. The crooked grin was typical Potter though, and Severus was as reassured to see it in this setting, as it aggravated him in the Potions classroom.

"It is noisy and messy out here," he replied, a complaint that Harry waved aside casually, demonstrating a rare understanding. Instead of taking the comment to heart he saw the complaint for what it was - an observation designed to tease and provoke, not a true concern.

"A little noise and mess never hurt anyone," the boy positively sounded like Albus with that statement and Severus snorted in reply, ignoring the glare that the Misses Granger and Weasley were directing at him. They didn't understand, in fact Harry and Albus and possibly young Ronald were the only ones that would. People rarely understood him, truly the number of people that he could say did had only just recently tripled. It was … disturbing how much that knowledge affected him.

"You say that now," Severus continued, sampling the perfectly moist and chocolately cake. Even the icing was chocolate, and had been dusted with grated coconut, which Harry had confessed was a favourite combination. Severus preferred his chocolate plain and dark, but this was acceptable. Harry opened his mouth to reply but was drowned out by a blast of static followed by the sound of Muggle music. It was almost as bad as the Weird Sisters. There was a spate of congratulations and exclamations and then the twins grabbed their sister and Granger and pulled them out onto a clear area of the patio to dance. Ron's distinctive laugh sounded as he joined them.

"What are they doing?" the question reminded him that Harry couldn't see, despite the fact that he continued to interact with others as if he could.

"They're dancing, dear," Molly replied before Severus could, and Severus snorted in disdain at the way the children were hopping about. Even Granger had forgotten her usual primness to throw her hands above her head and dance. Ron looked as if he was standing on hot coals and the twins were swaying and twisting like a pair of snakes. The youngest Weasley was imitating them, though Severus made sure not to stare.

"If you could call that dancing," Severus sniffed and put his plate aside, and Harry laughed, putting his plate down too, grabbing Severus by the arm and then hand, standing and tugging at the Potions Master. Severus resisted solidly. There was no way he was going to get up and dance, even as Molly and Arthur began a quick two step to the music in a corner of the patio. He very much doubted that Potter had anything so dignified in mind, after all Severus had been present at the Yule Ball in the boys fourth year. His dance partner had been lucky not to be crippled for life. The tugs on his hand became a little more forceful and insistent as his determination not to move increased, fuelled by the memory.

"Potter," Severus growled in warning, glaring fiercely on the principle that the boy would feel it if he couldn't see it. Potter gave a particularly strong tug and Severus stood to prevent an undignified fall to the ground. Proving that his Seeker reflexes had not abandoned him, Potter found his other hand and tugged on him once more, walking backwards, confident in the knowledge that Severus would not let him fall in front of so many people, though it would serve the brat right if he did.

Potter bounced lightly from side to side in time with the music, chuckling slightly in victory. Severus began mentally revising the nutrient potion that he continued to brew for the boy, planning to substitute several ingredients for much more unpleasant tasting components. The expressions on the faces of the teens already dancing were rather priceless, and a glance at Albus showed that his mentor was also surprised, though pleased. Harry's actions took on a new light; the boy was still trying to heal the pain he had accidentally inflicted on his mentor this morning, a suspicion that was confirmed with Harry's next words.

"For Albus," the soft whisper would not have been discernable to anyone else, and Severus squeezed the suddenly tense hands that held his, swaying his torso ever so slightly in rhythm with Potter's bounce. His mentors face creased into the biggest smile Severus had seen for some time, and some of the weight seemed to lift off his shoulders.

The sight was almost worth the sacrifice of his dignity.

0o0o0o0


	16. what were you thinking

…_what were you thinking…_

Hermione had managed to avoid being cornered by the group of Gryffindors waiting in ambush at the carriages for her by going straight to the Prefects compartment on the Hogwarts Express. Her fellow Prefects shot her a few wondering looks but none of them knew her well enough to pepper her with questions about Harry. The Daily Prophet had been brutal in its depiction of his ordeal, though it was true that Harry had looked to be on the verge of death at that horrible interview. She had not been particularly heartened to see that he had only gone from 'extremely delicate and skeletal' to 'extremely delicate and fragile waif' in the time between the interview and his birthday, though he had gained a lot of confidence and mastered many of the spells she had sent to the Headmaster after days of careful research.

The compartment that the Prefects travelled in was a double, and it was rapidly filling as the train shrieked it's warning and then slowly pulled out from the station. As always there were a few late arrivals to the compartment, not all Prefects were diligent about being on time for the annual meeting. Hermione glanced up in disapproval and then gasped as Ron Weasley stepped out from behind the new fifth year Hufflepuffs, looked around the compartment and grinned when he spotted her. As he made his way through the crowded compartment Hermione could see that he was not too happy, that there were faint lines around his mouth, and that he carried with him a sense of loss, as if he was looking for someone that was no longer there.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione burst out as he reached her side, "Why aren't you with Harry?"

She did notice that several people took an immediate interest in their conversation, and that they were alerting others to listen in as well. Normally she would have glared at them to mind their own business, but at the moment she was too intent on getting a decent answer from her friend.

"He's safe Hermione, and he's ok. We thrashed it all out, and it was decided that I'd come back to school for now. Mum and Dad will be happier with that, and I'll be able to go see him in the hols, we'll make some sort of arrangements for it," Ron didn't seem too happy about the decision, which was as it should be. Harry needed them to take care of him after the events of the summer, and Hermione could hardly credit that Mr and Mrs Weasley had made their youngest son come back to school. Hermione had gone home to her parent's house after the interview, too upset to stay with the Weasley's and at the same time not wanting to intrude as they sorted out Percy and his actions. She would have hurt the stuffy prat of a young man had he come near her after what he'd done to Harry.

"Who's with him then, the Headmaster?" Hermione sighed, "Is Professor McGonagall in charge of the school instead?"

"No the Headmaster is back at school as well," Ron shook his head, sitting beside her and shoving his hands in his pockets, "Severus is staying to take care of Harry."

"_What?_" Hermione shrieked in fury. It had taken every ounce of self control not to grab Harry away from the Death Eater when they had sat next to each other eating birthday cake, and she'd nearly expired from the effort not to jinx the man for letting his filthy hands touch Harry when the green eyed teen had insisted that the git join them in dancing; that is, if you could call the slight twitch and hateful glare that had rewarded Harry's inexplicable efforts dancing.

"Ron, _how could you?_ He'll kill Harry! He's a _Death Eater_!" she waved her hands in helpless anger, "What were you _thinking_?"

"I was thinking that you weren't there to see how things are different. They might not have got along in school, but they get along together quite well now," Ron was red with anger as well, though Hermione had a feeling that it was aimed at her; as if she had done something to deserve his ill temper. He wasn't going to take his guilt for leaving Harry behind out on her that much was certain. She'd hex him first.

"And besides there is no Mark on Severus' arm, Hermione. He's not a Death Eater," Ron continued in a difficult voice, "You weren't there this summer, you don't know…"

He got up abruptly and moved away, plonking himself down in an empty seat on the other side of the carriage and glaring into space. Hermione took a deep breath and forced herself not to follow him and continue the discussion. It didn't matter that Snape was pretending to be nicer now, Harry was in no condition to be left at the mercy of the embittered and hateful Potions Master.

The Head Girl called the meeting to order and Hermione concentrated on the matter at hand, putting everything else aside for a moment, knowing that she would be able to get Ron alone later in the journey and talk some sense into him. If worst came to the worst they could wait to see the Headmaster when they got to school and convince him to have Harry come to Hogwarts. She had already considered how they would manage Harry's lack of vision and the best ways to protect him. Gryffindor would help them, and she thought that the members of the DA from other Houses would probably help as well.

When the meeting broke up, she and Ron were scheduled to patrol the corridors, and as it wouldn't do to have an argument in front of the students they were supposed to be policing, Hermione kept quiet as Ron stomped along, a scowl on his face. They made it all the way to the second last carriage before a set of arms dragged them both into a compartment, which was then locked and soundproofed. Hermione had her wand out in a flash and was disappointed that Ron didn't pull his until she realised that it was the others in their year of Gryffindor House that had pulled them inside. Even Neville was there, his usually faintly worried face looking quite determined and fierce.

"Where's Harry?" Dean asked straight away, "I read what the Daily Prophet said, is he still too sick to come to school?"

He was looking at Hermione when he asked, probably because of the two of them she was more reliable when it came to reporting the facts than Ron. Before Hermione could admit that she hadn't seen much of Harry over the summer Ron spoke up, folding his arms decisively.

"The Headmaster has given permission for you to know some things about Harry and how he is," the red head said quietly, "But you have to understand that if we tell you too much and it gets back to the wrong ears it would be very bad for Harry, so you're not getting the full story, ok? If you can't deal with that then let me out now."

"I can deal with that," Seamus said straight away, "If Dumbledore said not to tell us everything then that's good enough for me. So was he as bad as they said?"

"Yes," Ron answered simply, "Though he is much better and still healing. He's not coming back to the school though, there are some … barriers that we can't quite overcome just at the minute. When those barriers are gone I imagine he'll be back. I literally can't tell you where he is, but he has someone taking care of him that he trusts, and he might be able to get an occasional letter to us all. If we want to write to him the letter should be handed to the Headmaster, who will pass them along in batches."

"Hermione? Anything to add?" Parvati asked, her pretty nose scrunched up. Hermione had quite a lot to add, but it was better to do that in private with Ron. She didn't want to undermine what he'd said about the Headmaster, which for all she knew was true.

"No, just that he was in a good mood when we had his birthday. That was the last time I saw Harry. Ron spent the summer taking care of him," Hermione sighed, and Lavender promptly shot Ron a doting look that made the red head look like he wanted to gag. Fortunately he restrained himself, or there would have been a row.

"Is there anything we can do for Harry?" Neville asked quietly, a question that was typical of Neville who always looked for what he could do for others instead of what they could do for him. It was one of his most endearing qualities and Hermione gifted him with a warm smile.

"We should make copies of our class notes for him," she replied, "So that he doesn't miss out on anything."

"I could do Herbology," Neville immediately volunteered and no one begrudged him jumping in like that; it was his speciality. One by one they all volunteered to make double notes in a subject and Ron organised them into a roster of who would collect and deliver those notes to the Headmaster before Hermione could even think about it.

'He must have learned to be so organised while taking care of Harry,' Hermione mused to herself and followed Ron out into the corridor once more. They would be at the school in four more hours and she would find time to speak to him alone then. Surely between the two of them they could find a way to rescue Harry from Snape.

0o0o0o0


	17. struggling on the verge

…_struggling on the verge_…

Albus settled into his seat behind his office desk and collected the scroll of parchment that listed the first years and their new houses. He read it over slowly, the Sorting had held no surprises to him, but it was the first Sorting without Harry Potter's messy head bobbing close to the fiery red of a Weasley or the brown frizz of a Granger; it had been very disconcerting to see the two of them but not Harry in the Great Hall. It was also the first Sorting he'd had in a long time without Severus Snape muttering into his goblet, performing his own unique version of Sorting by anticipating the foibles and follies of the new first years before they'd been in the castle more than an hour. It was truly astonishing to Albus how accurate the Potions Master was, though it was no surprise that the Order's best Spy had a better than average ability to read people; uncanny would be a good description of the man at times.

Fawkes rustled wearily on his perch and Albus got up to pet the Phoenix lightly, scratching in an obliging manner around a moulting joint. The summer had been hard on the Phoenix, as he had not only transported multiple people and objects for Albus, but had also monitored Harry quite closely when circumstances had forced Albus to leave the teen behind. The Phoenix had even cried tears into Harry's few open wounds, and was often found near the child when he became strong enough to wander around.

The announcement of Rufus Scrimgeour as the new Minister of Magic laid where Albus had left it, in one of the last ever print runs of the Daily Prophet. That paper had self destructed in quite a satisfying manner, with little to no help from him. Albus preferred not to interfere with people when what they were doing was something he approved of, and after all the damage that rag had done to Harry and the side of the Light, he thoroughly approved of them all being unemployed. As far as the Order could tell Scrimgeour was completely clear of any Dark affiliation, though he was no fan of the Headmaster, there was too much water under the bridge for that to ever happen. Not to mention the notion that he was trying to get access to Harry in order to use the Boy Who Lived to draw a mantle of respectability around the very Ministry that had vilified the child so often. That would happen over Albus' dead body.

The staircase started up, giving him a moment of surprise. Most students would be firmly ensconced in their dormitories at this time of night, if not in bed. A moments touch on the wards showed who it was and Albus sighed, mentally preparing himself for the conversation that was about to occur; it would be a difficult one he was sure, especially as he had not invited this particular person here at this time. There was a tap on the door and Albus turned away from Fawkes, who gave a tired peep and stuck his head under his wing, as if indicating that the entertainment of any guests was to be Albus' sole responsibility. Albus chuckled at his familiar and then waved the door open, coming to stand beside his desk as Draco Malfoy entered the room, his grey eyes sweeping the office keenly before coming to rest on the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"Hello sir," the boys voice was quiet, subdued. Albus had noted grief on his face during the feast, and part of him felt guilty that he hadn't thought to do more than send a note of condolence when the Prophet announced Lucius' death. He'd been too concerned with Harry to worry about a teen that had his mother still living to support him.

"I was sorry to hear of your loss, Draco," Albus said gently, and meant it. No child deserved to lose their parent, no matter what that parent had been doing to cause the loss of their life. Lucius Malfoy had died in the backlash of his own Killing Curse, cast on the whim of a Master he'd chosen freely to follow. Those were the harsh facts, but that didn't mean that he hadn't been a parent to Draco, and Albus was certain the boy had loved his father dearly, no matter how exacting a standard Lucius had held his son to.

"No you weren't," Draco threw the words back in the Headmaster's face, "But I understand that there were… reasons for your lack of sorrow, sir."

Albus permitted his expression to show startlement, and Draco sighed, waving a thin hand as if to erase the topic of discussion.

"I'm sorry, sir, the summer has been… difficult for me," Draco muttered, "And I suspect things are about to get that much more difficult."

"Have a seat Draco, and tell me what I can do for you," Albus sensed that they were standing at a turning point in this young mans life, that the next few minutes would make or break the child struggling on the verge of adulthood in front of him. Draco sat carefully, his posture and arrangement of robes as precise as always. Albus chose to sit in the chair beside him rather than impose that barrier of his desk between them and refrained from offering the usual round of refreshments, even lemon drops.

"My mother accepted the Dark Mark at the same time as her sister, Aunt Bellatrix," Draco sighed softly, "Though she was not considered a strong enough Witch to do more than dusty research and… her wifely duties to my father. With his death, it was made clear to me that I was expected to accept the Mark in his place, and join her in the ranks of the Death Eaters."

Draco paused and frowned, obviously waiting for some sort of condemnation or protest from the Headmaster. Albus folded his hands primly and waited patiently. Severus had once admitted that the boy lacked patience and could usually be out-waited, though naturally that was not the phrase the Potions Master had used, when discussing difficult topics. It seemed to Albus best to follow the prompts that the teen was used to at this time.

"From my mother I heard snippets of Potter's time as a prisoner in Riddle Manor," sure enough Draco continued without any further prompting after only a short pause, "And I heard how my father was killed, as well as of Severus' betrayal. If Severus Snape, the Death Eater that was thought to be the closest to the Dark Lord could actively work against him, then it seemed to me that my father had chosen poorly when it came to who would win and who would lose the Dark Lord's war. I do not wish to accept the Dark Mark, and have managed to put my mother off for a short time. I am seeking sanctuary."

"And what would your requirements for sanctuary be?" Albus asked quietly. It was not unexpected that the young man would come to him in such a manner, he and Severus were in fact expecting several children of Death Eaters to come to the same conclusions that Draco had.

"Protection from taking the Dark Mark, protection from the Dark Lords followers," Draco stipulated clearly, "If you can, protection from the Dark Lord himself, though I understand that is problematic at the best, given that even Potter fell into his hands despite the wards and charms that you had doubtless arranged for him from infancy."

"I see," Albus nodded, "And what would you be willing to do to secure that protection?"

"Do?" Draco asked sharply, "Are you asking me to become a spy? To risk myself as Severus did for so long? Whatever you've done to stave off the effects of his Mark burning they cannot be complete - I noted that we have a new Head of House and a new Potions Mistress."

"Professor Snape has no Mark," Albus revealed quietly, a piece of knowledge that he didn't mind getting back to Tom Riddle. Let the self styled Lord Voldemort wonder how they had managed to free the man he had thought was his most loyal servant from his Mark, "He is taking a well earned Sabbatical to work on some research. And I would not place you in the position of a spy, young man."

He let his tone harden at the end and saw that the reminder of who he was and what he had done in his life had the desired effect. Draco straightened his posture and bowed his head a little in an apology. The boy's father had the same set of regal manners, and the child had learnt them well.

"I would be willing to… comply with any request I felt was reasonable and did not directly endanger my life," Draco said carefully, and Albus almost smiled. For all his airs and graces, this was still a child before him, albeit one saddled with a very difficult decision so early in his life.

"Very well," Albus murmured, "I will consider your request, Draco. I will of course protect all my students as best I can from the perils you have previously mentioned, however should you prove to be genuine in your desire to reject the Dark I will ensure that you are not forced to return to your family home. In the meantime I would ask you to consider a small task."

He already knew that Draco was sincere in his request, a touch of Legilimency showed that the boy thoroughly rejected Tom Riddle's doctrine, though at the moment more because he felt it to be a danger to himself personally than because it was a danger to others. For now that was good enough, and there was no way that Albus would send the teen out into the world where he would be at considerable risk. The task he had in mind would help Draco realise his mistakes and convert him finally to the side of the Light.

"Voldemort," he used the name deliberately, all that Dark Lord rubbish really knotted his beard and he still had an urge to smack Severus' hands when the Potions Master said it, "Espouses that those descended from Muggles are less than those that are not. As it is those students that are most at risk I think it apropos that you become acquainted with several representatives of the Muggleborns that attend this school. You will, if not befriend then at least place yourself on speaking terms, with several of the Muggleborns in your year. I leave it up to you who you choose to approach, though I would point out that this task will not be easy given your prior airing of prejudice."

"Very well," Draco's mouth twisted, but he didn't fuss. Albus dismissed the teen, telling him that there was no time limit for the task and assuring him that should he feel that he was in any kind of immediate danger he could seek refuge with Albus or Professor McGonagall at any time. As the revolving stairs carried the boy away, Albus wondered if Draco would have the common sense to attempt to befriend Ron Weasley before he tried to befriend any Muggleborn. After all, a friendship with a Pureblood from Gryffindor would reassure any Muggleborn of a change in heart on the part of Slytherin. And if he could befriend or at least call a truce with Ron, then the redoubtable Miss Granger would see fit to involve herself in matters.

Pondering if he should speak to Ron about this tonight or wait until tomorrow, Albus stood to file the Sorting parchment away in the correct ledger, completing his interrupted task.

0o0o0o0


	18. mutual acts of rescue

…_mutual acts of rescue_…

Two weeks after Hogwarts had commenced, they had fallen into a kind of routine. Severus would rise early and prepare a light breakfast, which Harry would consume along with the mandatory potion supplements, and then Severus would retire to his lab while Harry tidied away the breakfast things. The boy would then join Severus in the lab, though he would remain in the area that had been given over to him, where he would work with his books. Albus had felt it best that the child remain concurrent with his peers when it came to the class work, and Harry would research until lunchtime, which Severus would make, and then practice in the garden the Magic he had been reading about. The practice area had been carefully selected, placed in direct line of sight of the French windows in Severus' lab. Usually these were shuttered off with thick curtains, but since Harry could not practice unsupervised, Severus' had been forced to remove the curtains, allowing light and fresh air to stream into his lab. He had charms up of course to prevent any breezes or draughts, the stated reason for them being that he did not want to risk accidents.

It did not escape his notice that Harry was becoming withdrawn and silent. At first Severus had dismissed it as teenage angst, after all the child had depended on Weasley for company and entertainment. He also seemed to seek Albus' company out whenever the older Wizard was in residence. Although he was withdrawn, Harry gave no sign that it was Severus' company that was the cause of the problem. The teen would seek the Potions Master out readily enough, and ask questions about the research that Severus was engaged in during their mealtimes. From their conversations it was apparent to Severus that the boys retention of information was more than adequate, and he began introducing more technical vocabulary into their discussions; after all there was no point in letting the boy grow up with such a limited vocabulary. The fact that he was instructing in his favourite topic to a captive audience was one that he accepted without thinking on it too deeply.

Severus had even experimented on Harry, very minimally. The teen welcomed casual contact, though he never initiated it, perhaps aware that even with a person sharing his living space, Severus was not the most tactile of individuals. He welcomed conversation with Severus, even if he had been sitting quietly alone, and even welcomed doing extra chores if Severus was there 'supervising' him; for all his desires of independence, Harry had yet to gain true self confidence navigating his world of everlasting darkness. All of this seemed to indicate that it was not Severus' presence that was upsetting Harry, and the knowledge was both comforting and frustrating. He couldn't pinpoint the cause of the disharmony, and the few hypotheses he'd had were proven flawed if not baseless.

Things might have continued in this vein for some time if not for a fortuitous midnight trip to the water closet. Severus had stayed up later than usual over his research notes and drunk more tea than was his usual habit, hence his disturbed slumber. On his way back to his room, Severus thought it prudent to check on Harry's slumber. He had wondered at the boy's apparent lack of nightmares, though he was grateful for it. Opening the door to Harry's room soon disabused him of the notion that Harry spent the night in peaceful sleep.

The boy was tossing in his bed, which was badly rumpled, and he was crying out in fear. It only took a moment for Severus to recognise a silencing spell cast upon the door, one that had Harry' magical signature on it. As Harry's cries were becoming louder and more pronounced, Severus hastened to the child's side and hesitantly reached out to shake him awake. Before he could Harry screamed and lurched upright, panting heavily for breath and shaking violently.

"Harry?" Severus regretted startling the boy, but had little time for that as Harry launched himself towards him, wrapping rail thin arms around his waist and hiding his face in Severus' bathrobe. The teen's shoulders shook with the force of his uneven breathing, and Severus draped an arm around him cautiously, not wanting to make the child feel trapped or confined. It was not lost on him that Harry preferred to be outdoors or by a window.

Although he was accustomed to comforting Slytherin first years dealing with their first night away from home, Severus was well aware that his usual tactics would not work well here. A spot of cocoa, a calm demeanour and a firm pat on the back would be useless against the demons that Harry was fighting now. Distressingly, Harry showed no signs of calming, Severus thought a small dose of calming potion might do the trick, and as there was some still in the dresser by the window he moved to get it.

"Don't leave!" Harry's voice was broken, wild, "Please, it's so lonely in the dark!"

As if the confession was the last straw Harry's last defences crumbled and grief poured from him in a wild torrent of sobs and little moans. Severus bent, wrapped both his arms around the boy and lifted him up, carrying him to the armchair that still resided in the corner of the room before settling into it with the distraught teen in his lap. It was a distressing sign of how ill Harry still was, that the effort to carry him had been no more than that of carrying an unwieldy cauldron. Aware that the child still felt the cold keenly, Severus drew his wand from his sleeve.

"Accio Harry's blanket," he caught the blue and silver thing as it floated to them and wrapped Harry in it gently. He held Harry close and let the boy cry himself out, pondering the plea that had just been made.

Albus and Ron had been Harry's primary source of touch while they were present. With them returned to the school, Harry was only touched on odd occasions, as it was not in Severus' nature to simply reach out and hug or hold another person. Years of spying had made it second nature for him to hold himself apart from others, a habit that had been seen as natural reticence by the rest of the world. Harry knew that, and had made no request that he tried to overcome his habits despite the loneliness that the absence of friendly touch was forcing upon the teen. The everlasting dark that surrounded Harry exacerbated this problem; Harry could not use eye contact and expression to connect with those around him, where another Witch or Wizard could. This was clearly the cause of Harry's upset; he was feeling isolated and alone, and it followed that in the aftermath of the torture and abuse that he'd suffered Harry needed more reassurance than ever before.

Harry's breathing was slowing, though the distressed sounds were only slightly abated. Severus shifted his grip enough to summon a washcloth, which he used to clean the boys overheated face, then gathered Harry close once more. Clearly something would have to be done to prevent Harry from feeling so lonely again, and as Severus was the only person around he would have to be the one to implement whatever strategy he could devise. The vital question was this: could he overcome a habit that stretched over most of his adult life to simply bestow very frequent friendly touches upon Harry? And would Harry accept it? After two weeks their daily routine was well established, though by no means ingrained. He had no doubt that in the cold light of day Harry would be embarrassed by his loss of control, and would view any attempt to hug him as a sign that Severus found him pitiable or weak; two categorisations that most definitely didn't apply to Harry Potter. Severus stroked Harry's back, deep in thought as the glimmer of an idea came to mind.

0o0o0o0

Harry woke alone. At some point in the night he could vaguely remember being tucked into his own bed, the conjured blanket wrapped around him beneath the covers. Severus had sat on the edge of his bed for quite some time, Harry had the notion that he'd only been alone for an hour at the most. He was not inclined to get out of bed and go downstairs, especially in the light of the way he'd carried on last night.

He'd been feeling a bit lonely for a hug for a while now, but Severus was not the sort of person you immediately thought of when you needed the warmth of a hug. In fact if there was such a thing as the anti-hug, then Severus Snape was it. The man was deeply private, very sparing with his touches, and very reserved. In addition there was their mutual past to consider. Harry had no doubt that Severus and Professor Snape were two different people, and had long since made his peace with that. Between his need to preserve a careful front for the children of the Death Eaters, his activities as a spy and his misconceptions about Harry himself, there was no way anyone would consider those two for the category of 'most likely to become friends'. However, if you were to rescue a person from torture then things changed. Severus had freed Harry from that little room, and Harry had freed Severus from his Mark. Those mutual acts of rescue levelled the playing field. It removed some of the obstacles from their past and allowed them to establish a rapport that may otherwise have been denied them. That didn't mean that Harry felt comfortable asking for physical affection.

He wouldn't have been comfortable anyway. The Dursley's were certainly not the sort of people that had welcomed his presence in their lives, let alone his touch. The few times he'd reached out for a hug or to hold a hand he'd been punished. That had taught him not to reach out at all, or it had until he'd met Ron. Ron touched everyone casually, and Harry had been surprised at first before learning to welcome the touch. He'd steeled himself to learn by example and touched Ron and Hermione in return, fleeting touches to hands and wrists at first, eventually moving on to hugs and leaning against them for companionship. The little room had taught Harry that touch meant pain, but Ron had once again taught him that it meant safety and healing. It was touch that anchored him to a world that he could no longer see; it helped him to forge connections that he had previously established through eye contact and reading body language. Spending a fortnight without either painful or gentle touch had left Harry's feeling of separation from the world at an unmanageable level. It was bad enough being blind and unable to connect with others by watching them, which had been his usual weapon against loneliness when he was little, without having to deal with feeling like he was the only person in the world as well.

Harry sighed and got up, reluctantly untangling himself from the conjured blanket. He would just have to take his Gryffindor courage by the scruff of the neck and march himself downstairs to face Severus. The Potions Master would want him to talk about his nightmare at the very least, which would possibly lead to other uncomfortable topics, but Harry knew that when all was said and done Severus was trying to help him and it would be best for their burgeoning friendship to meet the man halfway.

Showered and dressed, Harry headed down the stairs, sending a pulse of Magic before himself to ensure the path he was walking was free of obstacles. The spell acted rather like he imagined sonar did for whales, and he had become very good at interpreting what the 'bounce back' was telling him. He could even use it to find things he'd dropped provided they were of sufficient size. He had been curious about his ability to produce so much Magic wandlessly, and had wanted to ask Albus about it for a while, though he'd have settled for a discussion with Severus. It seemed lately that just the intent to perform a spell plus an action to trigger it was enough. He didn't need to speak aloud for some spells to work, the sonar spell being one of them. He was also starting to wonder if he might be able to tolerate having a spell cast on him, because apart from the nightmares and loneliness he was feeling a lot more secure at the moment.

"Good morning Harry," Severus' voice came from its usual spot at the kitchen table and Harry smiled in that direction. His nose told him that breakfast had been made; the usual toast and tea. Neither of them ate much in the morning, though sometimes Harry had an additional serving of fruit from the bowl in the kitchen. It never seemed to run out of whatever fruit you were hungry for and there was no concern that the fruit would be anything less than perfectly ripe; just what you'd expect in a Wizards kitchen.

"Good morning Severus," Harry made his way to the table and sat carefully. Though Severus was exacting in the way he laid the table it was not unknown for accidents to occur and Harry didn't want to knock over anyone's tea.

They ate breakfast in silence. There were no platitudes or pointless enquiries about Harry had slept or how he was feeling now. That was a kind of comfort, and Harry was grateful that it had been extended to him. Severus could be awfully single minded in his pursuit of the facts, Harry had seen him worry away at a puzzle like a dog with a bone, and didn't feel he could withstand that sort of interrogation right now.

The first indication that there was a change in routine came from Severus remaining behind to assist with the cleanup of breakfast. This wasn't too bad, Harry was well used to the task and if he could manage to prepare the Dursley's breakfast without Magic but with a fever of 104 then he could manage to clean it up blind and with Magic. Severus didn't actually do much beyond stand in the doorway and talk to Harry about the line of research he was pursuing in potions. Harry's grasp of the theory behind potions was a lot better these days; he'd been putting a lot more effort into retaining and utilising the information that Severus was offering in their conversations, well aware that the Potions Master would not tolerate inattention when he had already arranged to take his Sabbatical and care for Harry simultaneously.

They went into the lab together and Harry settled at his usual table for his morning studies. Severus disappeared into his own little world, but Harry didn't mind. He'd already had a lot of attention this morning and was quite content for things to go back to normal.

At lunch Severus mentioned his intention to join Harry for his Magic practice that afternoon if Harry would be amenable to assisting the Potions Master with some book research in the evening. Severus stated that he was keen to see how Harry was progressing and offer his assistance with spells that Harry was having trouble with. Harry wasn't fooled, but as it was the closest that Severus would get to coming right out and saying he was concerned for the him the teen didn't mind that the truth was going unspoken in this particular case. He didn't like a fuss; and come to think of it, neither did Severus.

0o0o0o0


	19. entitled to some privacy

…_entitled to some privacy…_

Ron had been gob smacked when the Headmaster had called him to his office and then sat him down for tea to discuss the future of Draco Malfoy. The Slytherins circumstances had been heavily hinted at, as was Albus' conviction the boy was speaking the truth. Ron had not been asked to 'make friends', not even Albus Dumbledore could overcome five years of teenage animosity over a cup of tea, but he had been asked to help Malfoy reach out to the Muggleborns of the school.

"There are Muggleborns in Slytherin, aren't there?" Ron had mused, "He'd be better off reaching out to them before trying the other Houses."

"Given the unfortunate prevalence of prejudice towards anyone who is not a Pureblood, Draco would find reaching out to the Slytherins difficult," Albus pointed out, "After all, they get along in that House by disguising or downplaying their family ties. To have those highlighted in a manner that would damage their reputations…"

"True," Ron's strategic side was engaged in the problem now, "Only if he reaches out to the other Houses the background of those students will be recognised by his own House. Any attempt to befriend his own dorm mates would cast aspersion on them immediately; not to mention the fact that no one likes to be an afterthought."

"I have encouraged Draco to make overtures to his own House through the most discrete channels he can fashion," Albus sighed, "While having him isolated from his House is not ideal, it may well be that the young man will have to simply make the best of things."

They'd left it at that, with Ron promising to be approachable to Malfoy. Privately he doubted that the blonde would seek him out; they'd never been on friendly terms. Ron knew he would have to curb his tongue as well, he and Harry gave as good as it got when it come to slurs and insults, and sometimes a pre-emptive strike was the best way to go. Now that Malfoy was trying to join their side Ron would have to keep the comments that habitually rose to mind to himself.

He also thought he'd have a problem with Hermione. Usually she could be counted on to see both sides of the story, or at least to advise caution and care. However, the last few weeks had shown that when it came to Voldemort and his followers Hermione had stirred herself up to a pitch of hatred that was almost hysteria. She fretted constantly about 'poor Harry alone with that bastard of a Death Eater', she refused to even use Snape's name, and would not listen when he tried to explain that Severus was actually a very different person to Professor Snape. While you would never call him a friendly, happy-go-lucky person to live with, he hadn't had a complete personality change after all, he was actually quite droll in a very wordy way.

Neville had also been quite worried about the situation in his own way, which had consisted of cornering Ron in the dorms before the others came up to bed and asking a lot of very pointed questions about Harry that the redhead wasn't sure his friend would want answered, or at least wouldn't want the answers bruited about. Once he'd been sure that Neville was only asking for his own information and not to spread the word to others Ron had spoken quite frankly about his summer taking care of Harry and his impressions of Severus as opposed to Snape. Neville found the latter part the hardest to come to terms with, but was too good a friend to them both to openly contest their right to friendship with the Head of Slytherin House, even if the man did figure in his nightmares.

Seamus and Dean had asked after Harry, and fished around for confirmation of the gossip that the Daily Prophet had bruited around as fact, but Ron had been very short with both of them, and even shorter with Lavender and Parvati.

"Harry is not some interesting specimen that you can gossip about and dissect at your leisure. He's entitled to some privacy and I won't have Gryffindor running around talking about him behind his back," Ron's bald statement had them frowning in disappointment and embarrassed anger, but the girls never brought it up to him again, and when they realised that Hermione didn't know that much more either the subject was dropped.

Hermione could have known more, in fact Harry had admitted in a pained voice that if she asked Ron he should tell her whatever she wanted to know. Given her vitriolic approach to things, Ron had deemed it best to ignore that instruction for the moment, preferring to wait until she had calmed down at the very least. Perhaps after half term she would be more rational about the subject and they could talk.

0o0o0o0


	20. beyond all measure

…_beyond all measure…_

Albus Dumbledore had come to a realisation. He hated Hogwarts. He hated the students, he hated the staff, he hated the house elves and he hated Hagrid's monsters. He hated his office, his quarters and the Great Hall. He absolutely loathed all his paperwork. He really detested the Ministry and the Wizengamot who kept owling him for instructions and he hated the Order of the Phoenix too. All of these things were keeping him from where he wanted to be, and stopping him from doing what he wanted to do, namely going to visit his summer home in the half term and spend time with his protégé and young Harry.

He knew they were alright; there was a secure line of communication involving some very clever charmed parchment and a locked box, but it just wasn't the same as being in their presence and seeing with his own eyes. He knew that Severus wouldn't lie to him, Harry might but Severus wouldn't, and Harry was getting along quite well by all accounts. They were dealing with a few nightmares, but Severus had found a way to manage things for Harry, who seemed to be opening up to his former enemy. It did his old heart good to know that those two could put aside their differences and form a friendship. It would never rival Harry's bond to the excellent Ron Weasley, but it was a close bond none-the-less. The problem was he didn't want to read about it, he wanted to _be there._

It was taking all of his not inconsiderable skill to hide his growing agitation from those around him. After all, it wasn't their fault that Albus couldn't abandon his responsibilities and please himself. Young Ron had been looking a little down of late, the forced absence was wearing on him as well, and Albus was trying to plan a visit for them all at Christmas; either at the summer house or here at Hogwarts depending on how strong Harry was and if he'd overcome his panic reaction to Magic being cast at him.

Fawkes gave an irritable peep as Albus shuffled his papers again and tried to settle down to the latest ridiculous request by the insufferable buffoons at the Ministry. The Phoenix rustled its wings in disapproval as Albus tapped his quill and finally took flight in exasperation as he hitched his chair closer to his desk. The Phoenix took a turn around the room and then dove for Albus' neck, grabbing him by the back of his collar and flashing them away, releasing him into the sitting room with a jolt and scolding him loudly as the red and gold bird fluttered to the back of the nearest chair.

"Albus?" Harry's voice interrupted the harangue, and there he was, standing confidently in the door to the lab, one hand resting on the jamb, "Whatever have you done to Fawkes?"

"Take his side, why don't you!" Albus exclaimed, smiling broadly, "I wasn't doing anything."

"Which means he was irritating the creature beyond all measure," Severus' voice floated through the open door, accompanied by the sound of a furiously boiling cauldron, "Don't let it in here, I'm at a crucial point."

Harry smiled over his shoulder and closed the door behind him, moving towards Albus with sure steps. He put his arms out when he was closer and the elderly Headmaster was happy to sweep him into a hug, holding his favoured child close and revelling in the healthy weight gain that he saw. Harry had a bit of colour in his cheeks and his untameable hair had a healthy lustre to it; the sight made Albus' heart soar in relief.

Fawkes cooed sweetly at them and Harry laughed, freeing an arm for the Phoenix to perch on. Albus had easily detected the sarcasm his Phoenix was directing at him, and evidently Harry could too.

"Was he sulking, Fawkes?" Harry asked lightly and the Phoenix bobbed on his arm affirmatively. Albus tutted and grumbled under his breath but neither of them took any notice, to his delight.

"We missed you too, Albus," Harry made his voice mock soothing, and Albus chuckled, ruffling dark hair lightly and stepping back a bit. It was too cold now to have the windows open, though the curtains were flung back to admit as much sunlight as possible. They moved to a couch and sat down, the Phoenix settling smugly into Harry's lap to be petted, Albus sitting with an arm around Harry to 'pet' him as well. Harry leaned into his side happily, making the Headmaster's day for him.

"Is Hedwig still here?" Albus had idly wondered what the snowy owl did with no letters to deliver and no other owls for company, but hadn't wanted to waste the charmed parchment asking. It was a tricky spell, and Flitwick cast it better than Albus or Severus could, but as it was linked to the Fidelius charm they couldn't take the risk of involving the Charms Master. That meant putting up with charms that were not as elegant or stable as Filius could have produced.

"She is, she's sleeping up in my room at the moment," Harry confirmed, "In fact she and Severus are currently arguing over my meals."

"I beg your pardon?" Albus was not entirely sure how to take that comment and Harry chuckled, stroking Fawkes neck gently as the Phoenix blinked in contentment. The famous green eyes stared fixedly just past Albus, something he didn't think he'd ever get used to.

"Well, I'm still skinny, and she wants to make me better. Early on, she was at the breakfast table when I complained about the taste of the nutrient potion that Severus is still making for me. It's pretty awful, and not something that is going to make me want to eat a big breakfast on top of it. I told Severus that I'd rather suck on a mouse than drink more of it, and he said he could make it that flavour if I insisted, which I didn't. I know better than to dare him about something like that! Anyway, Hedwig must have taken what I said to heart, because the next morning she brought me a mouse for breakfast."

Albus burst into hearty laughter. Severus certainly hadn't seen fit to mention _that_ in any of his daily reports. He could just see it now, the expression on his protégé's face, even the one on Harry's when he'd realised what Hedwig had gifted him with. Harry was snickering along, careful not to disturb the now slumbering Fawkes.

"I get one every second day now, and Severus says that she glares at him when she delivers it to the table. I told him he was jealous and got a blistering lecture about how he didn't need an owl to look after him thank-you-very-much and I could keep my silly notions to myself," Harry paused with the air of one about to reveal a great secret, "I wouldn't mind, but only yesterday she brought one for him as well!"

Albus positively cried with laughter, taking his arm from around Harry and bending double with the force of his hilarity. Harry fished in a pocket for a moment and then solicitously offered him a handkerchief, which didn't really help matters.

"Harry!" Severus scolded through the door, "You better not be telling tales!"

"No Severus!" Harry called back, his tone so innocent he should have had a halo at the very least, "Of course not!"

Irritable muttering ensued from the potions lab, but they both knew better than to take it to heart, just as they knew that Severus was not sincere in his censure of Harry's tale. For all of his insistence on his dignity and pride, Severus was more than able to withstand a little teasing, provided the teaser and their audience was someone he at least liked. It was a good sign and Albus straightened up and tried to regain his breath, more reassured by that little mutter than by any long speeches that could have been made. His boys were fine and getting along well. All was as he had fervently wished. Who knew what would develop between them in time.

[A/N - not Sev/Harry slash!


	21. befriend was the wrong word

…_befriend was the wrong word…_

Hermione couldn't believe it when Ron had sat at the same table as Malfoy in the library. True there were few other spaces left and people did tend to want to ask them a hundred and one questions about Harry, but to sit with the son of Harry's torturer went a little beyond the pale as far as she was concerned. Ron had strolled to the table that the blonde prefect had occupied in solitary state, muttered 'do you mind?' in Malfoy's direction and then sat down, calmly unpacking his bag when he should have been jinxing the other teen at the very least.

Malfoy hadn't known what to make of it either, which would have been amusing to watch if she hadn't been so busy hating him. Neither teen had spoken to each other, simply getting on with their homework in a business like manner. Several first years had entered not long after and gone to sit at that table as well, evidently feeling protected from the son of a torturer by Ron's inexplicable presence.

Try as she might, she had not been able to convince Ron in the weeks that followed that Harry would not have approved of this latest outcome. They'd had several discussions about the matter, which usually resulted in her leaving in a huff and not speaking to Ron for days on end. She would forgive him eventually and they would get along quietly for a while, before he did something else that showed acceptance of Draco Malfoy and then she'd have to fight with him again.

Ron simply would not see that Harry needed to be rescued from Snape or that their best friend would consider any kindness towards Malfoy a betrayal of the worst kind. Ron had not reacted well to that statement and Hermione had been put in the awkward position of having to apologise to him for their fight. He'd been cool towards her all through the half term break, choosing to spend his time in the library, working on assignments at the same table as Malfoy. There were several other Muggleborns who had been seen around the school and in the library talking to the Slytherin prefect and Hermione had wondered how on earth they could stand his racist rhetoric.

Malfoy was suffering a decrease in popularity with his former set, in fact he seemed to avoid them whenever he could, which meant that he had to be pretty lonely at the moment. She assumed that his 'slipping standards' were the reason for this and was glad that he was isolated from his House. Slytherin had become fairly withdrawn with the absence of their Head of House, though Professor Sinistra had taken over his duty to them. The new Potions teacher was someone called Drater, and he had a thorough knowledge of the subject, which he delivered in dry little lectures followed by short practicals. They hadn't brewed a full potion all year, and as nasty as he was she was almost missing Snape's supervision of the Potions lab. Thankfully the man was only filling in until Christmas. It seemed that the Dark Arts Curse had transferred itself to Potions: they would be having a new teacher after Christmas.

To Hermione's surprise, Ginny was supportive of Ron's efforts to … well befriend was the wrong word but she couldn't think of another … Malfoy. His little sister had pulled him aside, hissed some very pointed questions at him, in response to which he had leaned in and whispered a very short sentence. Ginny had looked surprised, then approving and had said no more about the matter, not even to Hermione. It was all very frustrating.

Things came to a head when she rowed with Ron one too many times. Harry usually played peace keeper between them, or at least was skilled in diverting them away from actual conflict, and without that buffer they were just that much quicker to go from bickering to full blown arguments. Ron's grip on his temper was becoming shorter and shorter and Hermione had to admit that she disliked seeing the cavalier fashion that he treated her concerns. He kept exhorting her to 'think about it', which implied that she hadn't thought things through at all. If there was nothing Hermione Granger hated more it was being told that she hadn't thought something through properly.

0o0o0o0

Ron was actually relieved that the Room of Requirement was so near to hand when the inevitable screaming match erupted. It was a moment's work to hit Hermione with a silencing charm and then drag her through the corridors to the Room, slamming the door shut with an echoing bang behind them.

Hermione wrenched her arm free and spun on the spot to glare at him, and was evidently surprised when he didn't wince and look away. Only last term that glare had the power to make him want to apologise, even if it had taken him time to do so, now all it did was fuel his own anger, and he ratcheted up his own glare in response.

"What is your problem?" never one to back down from an exchange of views, Hermione's voice could have etched glass.

"You!" Ron shouted, the words such a relief to say that he felt light headed, "You are my problem! You and your blind hatred!"

"What!" Hermione actually shrieked, going red with anger, her bushy hair seeming to crackle with static in response to the flush of emotion, "How dare you! I'm not the one going behind our best friends back to make friends with the son of the man who tortured him!"

"I'm not going behind his back!" Ron roared, "Harry knows all about it! He understands!"

"Oh sure," she scathed, "He understands that now he's not here with his money and fame you're sucking up to the next person in line!"

It felt as if the top of his head had floated away on a sea of rage. How dare she! She who had not seen Harry, had not spoken to Harry, had not held his bleeding and broken body and cared for his wounds, had not bathed and comforted him, dared to assume that he was only Harry's friend because of the reflection it was on him! He had waited for Malfoy to approach him, and when the blonde had not made any move to do so, had gone back to the Headmaster. He had not made any effort to sabotage Malfoy's attempts to reach out, but they had not gone well at all, and he and the Headmaster had a long talk about what he could do to further the blondes progress towards the Light.

This had resulted in a very long and torturous letter exchange with Harry. Between the two of them they had cleared the air about Malfoy and how Harry felt about the blonde. Harry wanted nothing to do with him, but at the same time could see that anything that prevented the son from following the father's footsteps was a good thing. In the end he had given Ron permission to aid the Slytherin in his efforts to reach out to those he had once labelled as inferior, and in return Ron had promised not to progress any further than a nodding acquaintance with Malfoy. It had been a very easy promise to make. He didn't like the teen, mainly because he had always gone out of his way to hurt, belittle or embarrass the Gryffindor Trio, and had no interest in forming any sort of friendship with him whatsoever.

"How dare you," Ron breathed, so furious that he was actually white in the face, "How dare you say that to me. Harry knows what is going on, and he has given his permission for me to do this. Do you honestly think I would make this move, no matter who requested it of me, without Harry's proper consent?"

Hermione took a step back, paling in shock at his expression, and Ron took a few steps back too, his face twisting into a snarl of pure disgust. He could not believe that she would think him so shallow and selfish as to base his friendships solely upon what the other could give to him. He may have been from an impoverished family, but that didn't mean he was so desperate he would sink to such a level.

"Well, now I know what you really think of me," Ron continued, feeling as if she had slapped him, then yanked out his heart. He'd once thought that she and he could have had something together, though lately his feelings and thoughts had all been centred around their absent friend, "I suppose you thought I only befriended you for the homework help? Well just so we're clear Miss Granger, there is more to the situation than meets the eye. Someone I trust asked me to perform a specific task in relation to Malfoy. He wasn't too keen to join the Death Eaters after what happened to Lucius and I've agreed to assist with his turn to the side of Light. Harry has full knowledge of this, and we've corresponded over the limits to my actions, so we're both comfortable with the idea. I've been asked not to reveal specifics, and you will have to promise not to say anything to anyone either. Now if you'll excuse me Miss Granger, I have to leave before I forget my manners. I won't bother you again."

"Ron," there were actually tears in her eyes, but he hardened his heart to them. He couldn't bear it any more, to stand there knowing that she thought him capable of betraying Harry to enhance his own social standing in the school. He gave her a small mocking bow and stormed from the room, stalking along the corridor with such an expression on his face that people actually got out of his way and let him pass.

0o0o0o0


	22. quite acceptable

…_quite acceptable…_

Upon reflection Severus was able to say that his plan had worked perfectly, once he'd managed to install wards on the boy's room that stopped him from erecting sound barriers. Severus preferred to know when Harry was in need of him, it prevented the teen from losing what little colour he had gained and producing bags under his eyes so large they might as well be a Muggle set of matched luggage. In the evening he would sit with an arm around Harry and encourage him to speak of his confinement, and Harry had done so, discussing not only the actions and reactions of those around him but also the more emotional burden his captivity had placed upon him. In retrospect they had covered every aspect except for one - the attempted rapes. Harry would not speak of them, would not even hint at them, and Severus had wondered if it was a lack of trust that had kept the teen quiet until a barely muttered comment had shed light on the situation. Harry felt that their sharing was one sided, and felt he'd bared enough of his soul to Severus. He could go no further without some sign from Severus that his next confidence would be understood.

It had taken Severus weeks of internal debate to decide what he could and could not bear to tell the teen. Over the past months Harry's opinion of him had come to be something he treasured. He was proud of their rapport, due in no small part to the amount of effort that they had put into building it. The slow days of effort had paid off in a foundation that was as strong as that of Hogwarts, and while they would never use the term friends, that was what they were becoming in a very uneven way. There would always be the gap of age between them, though as Harry grew older it would become less important. The unexpected visit from Albus had given him a little breathing space, as Harry had been coaxed by the older Wizard to confide in him for a time.

Having made his decision, Severus was not one to put off action, and two nights after Albus' departure saw him sitting on the couch with Harry tucked under his arm. The boy continued to favour the ridiculous blanket, though Severus couldn't argue that he was warm enough without it. The days were getting cooler, but Harry was too thin to deal with the cold as it was. As always they were sitting with the teen curled up, his knees to his chest and Severus had placed an arm around his shoulders, a warm anchor to the here and now.

"Harry, I would like to speak to you tonight," Severus murmured, and Harry rested his head on Severus' shoulder easily. The teen often preferred to sit that way, he had once, under the influence of a sleeping draft, confessed that he liked to feel the vibrations of Severus' voice. The Potions Master suspected the teen was using the vibration as a substitute for watching the expressions on his face.

"You have trusted me with the tale of your ordeal, but tonight I would like to tell you a little about my own, about my time as a servant of the Dark Lord. There will be some things I do not wish to speak of, Harry; you may ask questions but I may not answer them all. Is this acceptable?"

The proposal was similar to their usual bargain. They had discussed other things that had occurred at school and Harry had begged off a few answers, mainly for questions that touched on something embarrassing or deeply private. Severus had accepted those refusals gracefully, and Harry showed just how much he had been aged by his experiences when he leaned his head back as if to look at Severus and smile. The empty gaze he favoured the older man with was a little unnerving, even after all this time.

"Quite acceptable," he tucked his messy head back into Severus' chest and settled in to listen. Severus squeezed the shoulders his arm was resting upon lightly in thanks and then ordered his thoughts once more.

"I was approached by Lucius just as I gained my Mastery of Potions to complete several very difficult and rare brews. They were borderline illegal, but the challenge of brewing them was too great to pass up. I was the youngest person to gain Mastery in Potions in the United Kingdom for a hundred years, and there were quite a few people who were eager to secure my services. For me, the brewing was all about the challenge, and when Lucius returned with more and more difficult recipes, the fact that they were rapidly shading over into the more Dark side of things was something I chose to ignore."

They had taken to calling Malfoy by his first name, the better to distinguish father from son. Harry was well aware of Ron's task for the Headmaster, and while uneasy at the thought of being friendly to one so intimately connected to his torturer, the teen was able to see that every one should have a chance to prove themselves.

"You weren't aware that he was a Death Eater?" Harry's voice was calm and even, a neutral tone that was appreciated.

"I was aware that he was not the person using the potions I brewed, but chose to put him in the category of 'go between' rather than Death Eater," Severus clarified with a heavy heart, "He was a year above me in school and not really a part of my set. I didn't know him that well, nor did I want to. Eventually Voldemort himself came to my home, which was where I did all my brewing, and requested a few of the Darkest potions personally. You have to understand he was still quite human in appearance then, and a very… persuasive and personable man. He won me over by appealing to my pride, and I took the Mark willingly."

Harry sighed sadly and rubbed his cheek into Severus chest, a motion meant to comfort. It was ridiculous that he should be so pleased that the son of an old school yard enemy would accept him, failures, mistakes and all. Severus dipped his head so his cheek could brush tousled hair and then straightened again, his eyes losing focus as he stared into the past.

"I participated in only three raids for the Death Eaters. I will not detail them, but on the last raid I unleashed a rather Dark spell that I had been researching in my spare time. This was brought to Lord Voldemort's notice and he… turned me from recruit to researcher. At his behest I would spend my days searching for information on various Rites and Rituals, all Dark of course, as well as continuing to brew some of the Darkest of potions. Eventually he had me help him conduct a Ritual upon himself. It was that casting that woke me to his true nature, and sickened by what I had become I turned to Albus for help."

The Ritual had been one of the very worst, involving rape, mutilation and sacrifice. In effect that ritual had been what allowed Voldemort to survive the backlash of his own killing curse, though Albus had made it clear to him that the Dark Lord would have found a way to cast the ritual with or without Severus. He hadn't felt clean for weeks afterwards, though his Occulmency was strong enough to hide that from his Master. Harry sat still under his arm, simply waiting for him to continue, much as Severus had in the past few weeks when the teen reached a point where he needed to reflect before continuing. Severus was unaware that he was rubbing the teen's arm, a comforting gesture that was more for his own benefit than Harry's.

"Albus asked me to pass along whatever information I could, but before I could even make a start on that task Voldemort went after you and your family. I was caught with several of my fellows in the apothecary we were raiding at the time you destroyed his body. Our Marks flared so badly we were unconscious for days. I was sent to Azkaban, and it took Albus several months to get me cleared."

He shivered in memory and Harry turned in his embrace, wrapping a blanket-clad arm around him and holding on tightly. The boy had no positive images of the prison at all - he had seen all too clearly what happened to a man forced into close prolonged proximity with a Dementor. He and Albus had spent several months in this very house, with Severus a wreck of nerves and shame. Albus had persuaded him to come and teach Potions in the end, and at the time the unnerved Severus had been too weak to argue against such a move. It had been the saving of him, despite the daily frustrations he felt with the more inept students he came across.

"When the Third Task went so terribly wrong, I felt Voldemort's return to his body, and knew that once again my life was not my own. I could not answer his Summons to the graveyard, I had to find and warn Albus, though by the time I reached him you had returned yourself and Diggory to the grounds."

Harry moaned in pained remembrance, and Severus wrapped both arms around the teen tightly. They sat silent for a moment, each reliving those horrible moments at the end of the accursed tournament.

"How did you explain not answering the Summons?" the question was breathed into his waistcoat and Severus sighed, burying his face in dark hair for a moment.

"I lied, and lied well," he said simply, "Voldemort had been saying for quite some time prior to your first victory that he wanted to place a spy close to Albus. One of the stipulations of my position as his research assistant was that I practice Occulmency to prevent others from reading his plans and confidences to me. I was so adept that he believed I was wide open to his Legilimency when I was in fact hiding several key facts from him. During our first audience after the Tournament I convinced him that I had sought out Albus upon his defeat with a tale of remorse, and set myself up close to the Headmaster to await Voldemort's triumphant return. I would be well established by the time he returned to the homeland, and able to pass along whatever information he wanted. In addition I had unrestricted access to the Restricted section of the school Library, which holds texts so rare that not even he could get his hands upon them."

"And he believed the lie," there was a faintly admiring tone to Harry's voice and Severus nodded, knowing the teen would feel the movement.

"He did," he confirmed heavily, "But the passing years had left their toll upon him. He required several complex potions and spells to anchor him to his new body, and he was… mentally unstable in many ways. I once more became his assistant, but also his… pet. I was to him as Nagini, sometimes a tool, sometimes a puppet, sometimes a confidant and sometimes a sort of friend… he would unmask me … and pet my hair… he would refer to me as 'my Severus' almost constantly… and with each meeting it was more and more difficult to walk the fine line between subservient and confident."

Harry was rubbing one of the arms that Severus had wound tightly around him, the action meant to soothe. He had only ever spoken of this to Albus, who knew full well his feelings on the matter. To speak to someone new was both liberating and frightening.

The fact that it was the son of the hated James Potter was nothing short of mind blowing.

0o0o0o0


	23. confessions of confinement

…_confessions of confinement…_

Albus looked up at the knock on his door and smiled as Arthur Weasley entered. The balding man had a small bag slung over one shoulder - which was no doubt enspelled with a bit of extra space to allow him to carry more than the bag would normally be capable of. That sort of spell was one of Arthur's specialities. All of his children had enlarged trunks that he himself had made. Albus often wondered why Arthur didn't go into business for himself, but had decided it was better not to pry. He didn't want the man to think Albus disapproved of his career choices. Muggles were his passion, and while most Witches or Wizards couldn't see the point in studying them, Arthur had made a career of sorts out of it.

Severus had spoken to him about Harry's confessions of confinement, and Harry himself had spoken to Albus about the matter as well. After Severus had confided some of his time with Voldemort, making it clear to Albus that he had painted with very broad brush strokes indeed, Harry had tried once or twice to confide the details of the attempted rapes to the Potions Master. The attempts had been unmitigated disasters, and Harry was suffering through a round of nightmares that left him so afraid of sleep he would spend the night in the armchair in his room, often refusing to lay down for even a short amount of time.

Harry couldn't explain why it was so hard to tell Severus what had happened, though Severus was sure that the Death Eaters had not been successful in their attempt to defile the teen. Voldemort himself had confirmed that, Albus had seen the memory. Molly and Arthur made a point of lingering after the Order's meetings to ask after Harry, and Albus had mentioned that there was a single stumbling block to his recovery, an event that was troubling Harry immensely.

Severus had assured Albus that he was not in any way disappointed with Harry's inability to trust him with that secret. The fact that Harry had tried was more than enough to confirm that their relationship was well founded. Albus was so proud of his boys he couldn't speak of it, there were not enough words in existence to do it justice.

Arthur had suggested the solution to their problem. He suspected that Harry was in some way concerned how they would view him after he told them whatever it was that was troubling him, and though he and they all knew there wasn't anything Harry could say that would tarnish their regard for him the teen would not be able to go against his instincts.

"He needs a dad to talk to Albus," Arthur had sighed, "Severus is more of an uncle than a father, and you would be more like a grandfather to him… Remus is in the same boat as Severus, and even poor Sirius wouldn't do, if he were still with us. Perhaps Hagrid? Or one of the teachers here?"

"How about you dear?" Molly had suggested what was on the tip of Albus' tongue. After all the man positively screamed 'dad' in every way possible, "I know you haven't spent as much time with him as I have, but perhaps you could help him confide."

Albus had pressed the point home, and Arthur had reluctantly agreed, making it clear that he didn't think it would work. Severus had been contacted and had arranged to attend a conference that was being held in Ireland, an annual gathering of international significance. He'd missed it several years in a row when the school schedule had been too rigorous to allow him to attend, and Albus had the feeling that his protégé was looking forward to sneering at his peers in person rather than through the usual correspondence.

"All ready then, Arthur?" Albus beamed, pushing aside his musings, "I cannot thank you enough for this. Severus has not had a chance to cut down his peers in person for years, and I know that young Harry is looking forward to your visit."

"I'm looking forward to seeing him too," Arthur smiled, "As long as you understand I cannot force a confidence from him Albus. I'm not convinced that you're right about this."

"Arthur, not even Molly held my boy the way you did prior to his interview. And Harry was more than happy to be held as well. However, I agree that a confidence cannot be forced. Perhaps just knowing that you're there will help soothe his nightmares," Albus smiled benignly at the father of seven as Fawkes fluttered from his perch to sit on the desk, "Fawkes will take you to the house, and then return with Severus so he may sharpen his wit on his colleagues before attending his confederation. It really is good of you to use your valuable holiday time for Harry's benefit."

"Well," there was a faint touch of colour to Arthur's cheeks, "I don't mind really. It will be a novelty to look after one boy instead of six!"

Albus chuckled and Fawkes trilled before launching off the desk to fly around the office. He dove towards Arthur and grabbed his shoulder in surprisingly strong talons. Albus held up his hand in farewell and watched them flash out of existence.

"I know you'll succeed," he murmured to the place Arthur had been, "You underestimate yourself dear boy."

0o0o0o0

The distinctive sound of Fawkes' arrival had Harry smiling and putting his books to one side. Severus had him researching several dual step transfigurations at the moment, which Harry was able to perform with slightly inconsistent results. Form and function transitions were difficult enough to do when you could see what affect your Magic was having, doing it blindly was taxing and nerve wracking to say the least. He hated it when the spell failed, he never knew what Severus would have to deal with. Once he'd conjured some sort of bird entirely by accident, and it had promptly left little 'messages' all over the room. Severus had used some very inventive language, and Harry was planning to repeat it to Ron as soon as he could. Ron was always appreciative of new swear words.

"Hello Fawkes! Hello Mr Weasley!" Harry beamed, turning towards the sound. Fawkes crowed in response, fluttering to Harry's shoulder and he welcomed the heavy warm weight happily, reaching up to stroke the red feathers of the creature that kept Albus as a pet. Footsteps alerted him to Mr Weasley's location and Fawkes fluttered off to check on Severus. Big warm hands tugged him up out of his chair and then folded him gently against a broad chest encased in worn wool. Mr Weasley smelled like Ron, or to be more accurate Ron smelt like his dad, and Harry snuggled in happily, wrapping both arms around the man and hanging on tight. Severus was not fond of hugging with both arms, he preferred a one armed hug or to place a hand between Harry's shoulder blades instead. It was comforting, but sometimes Harry just wanted someone he could lean into and hold on.

"I think we can manage to be Harry and Arthur, hmm?" the words drifted past his ear quietly and Harry nodded, squeezing the body he was hanging onto in affirmation. He felt the privilege of that suggestion - in his experience Mr Weasley didn't let just anyone call him by his first name.

"Arthur?" Severus' voice called from the stairs, and Arthur turned a little, but didn't let Harry go. Harry didn't mind being seen in the arms of his friend's father and took several deep breaths, enjoying the warmth he was feeling. It was as much internal as external.

"Hello Severus, looking forward to your conference?" Arthur asked and Harry heard Severus make a vague noise in reply. It sounded like confirmation, though Severus rarely admitted to enjoying anything. It was odd, Harry knew he was not a good man, but he also knew his teacher wasn't evil. He had accepted Severus for who he was, though not without significant thought and musing.

"I'll be off then," Severus spoke and Harry broke his hug to turn and smile at his mentor. He would miss him, and the dry sarcastic humour that the Potions Master wielded like a sword. He was glad that Snape was able to attend the conference for a change, Harry had felt oddly guilty that the Potion Masters teaching commitments had kept him from attending previously.

"Have fun, Severus. Be good," Harry grinned cheekily. In his minds eye he could clearly see the glare he was getting, indeed he could practically feel the heat of it.

"I am _not_ good, Potter," the vitriolic tone simply made him beam even wider, "I am _superb_."

And with that Fawkes took Severus away, allowing the man to have the last word, and saving him from seeing Harry doubled over in laughter. Even Arthur was snickering away and Harry straightened up, making an effort at control. With Severus gone he was the 'host' of the house, and might as well do the thing in style.

"I'll show you around," he offered and Arthur swallowed his snickers. Harry led the way to the stairs, pointing out the layout of downstairs as he went. The house had very few walls on the ground floor, something that he appreciated greatly. It made life much easier for him. Arthur was staying in the guest room opposite Severus, and Harry listened as the man unpacked his things, sitting in the window as the older man chatted about the Burrow and the latest news from the Ministry. The new Minister had enacted several laws to allow the Aurors and Unspeakable a broader range of powers in reaction to some of the Death Eater raids.

Unpacking complete, Harry led the way out into the garden, which was where Arthur had spent most of his time on Harry's birthday. The scents of the garden had changed with the cooling weather, and this had put off some of Harry's mental map. He'd had to incorporate new scents into it, a challenge he took seriously. Albus' couch followed them outside and they sat down for a while, while Arthur told Harry about the family. With seven children this took a while, though he at least knew about Ron already, because of the letters they sent each other.

The twins' antics reminded Harry of his time on the Quidditch team with them, and Arthur listened to the story of the Twins, the Seeker and the Rogue Bludger with indulgent chuckles.

"Those two," his tone was fond, "They were always fearless even as babies. It was no surprise to me that they'd joined the Quidditch team as Beaters. They love to fly."

"I miss it," Harry admitted shyly, though he'd not thought about flying for a long time. At first he'd been too weak, and now there was the added difficulty of his blindness to factor in.

"I thought you might, son," Arthur shifted on the couch, "So I brought a couple of old brooms from the Burrow. I might not be up to catching a Snitch, but we could at least take a few turns around the place."

"I'd love too!" Harry blurted as Arthur incanted the enlargement charm. He must have been carrying the miniaturised brooms in his pocket all this time, "But, what if I go out of bounds? I can't see the edges of the property here."

"We can use a spell for that," Arthur stood and handed Harry a broom, an old Cleansweep from the heft of it, "There's a tether spell that mums use to keep active toddlers close by without having to hold their hands," the tall man leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, even though there was no one near to hear them, "I think she still uses it on the twins when we're all out together."

Harry laughed heartily, and Arthur incanted again. Something warm snaked its way around his waist and settled lightly on his hips, just tight enough to stay in place but not restrict his movement in any way shape or form.

"I've used the longer version - we can get about three metres away from each other at maximum stretch," Arthur informed him, then paused, "Is something wrong Harry?"

"You cast a spell on me! I… no one has been able to do that since…" Harry stuttered to a halt and then beamed, spreading his arms wide. It was probably ridiculous to be proud of something so small, but he had worried that his shields would be just one more barrier between him and normal life, "I'm better!"

Arthur laughed and ruffled his hair gently, and Harry leaned into the touch for a moment before straightening up. He was happy about the spell casting, but at the same time eager for his treat. He hefted the broom so it was balanced in his hand and then dropped it, saying 'up' before more than a second had passed. The broom snapped back to his hand without hitting the ground and he mounted confidently.

"I'm going to regret this," Arthur groaned, mounting his own broom. There was a teasing tone in his voice that reassured Harry his companion was not as reluctant as the words suggested and Harry simply laughed before launching himself up into the air, every sense available wide open to the experience waiting for him.

0o0o0o0


	24. instincts led me

…_instincts led me…_

I couldn't resist hugging him the moment I saw him, Albus was right about that at least. I am not given to hugging my children's friends, but there was something about Harry that just cried out for it.

I don't mind admitting that the idea to bring the brooms along was a stroke of genius. Harry would fly for as long as there was daylight on the few summer visits he'd had at the Burrow, and Molly had admitted to more than one scare when it came to the hijinx that young man would pull on a broom. She had deemed him to be worse than the twins, which was saying something. Thankfully, Harry didn't try any fancy manoeuvres with me attached to him by the tether. I had a hard enough time keeping up with him in the sprints as it was, and I think it would be safe to say that Harry took pity on me and kept his speed down.

We read after dinner, then made plans to work on transfiguration the next morning when Harry confessed he was having problems with it. It was one of my specialities and I was glad to help the lad master the dual step spells. Harry retired in good order. I kept Albus and Severus' warning in mind, and made sure to wait at least two hours before going to check on him. How Harry would react to the idea that I was there to ease his nights rather than his days was something I couldn't predict. Albus' notion that I was the 'dad' that Harry lacked was kindly meant, but not one I put much stock in, for all that I'd slipped and called him son earlier. He'd had James in his life for such a short time, and he'd only seen me in that role for no more than a handful of days during the World Cup. The notion that Harry knew what a dad was for seemed unlikely at best. He certainly knew what a dad _wasn't_ by watching his uncle as he grew up. As wrong as it was to think ill of the dead I had wasted no tears on that Muggle family.

Harry was sleeping peacefully and I set a small charm by his bed, one that Molly and I had used for many years to monitor the sleep of our little ones. That charm had alerted us to Percy's dangerously high fever, Charlie's' attempt to hatch a snake egg in his bed, and the twins multiple night time excursions. My bed was very empty and cold, Molly and I had not slept apart for years, not even in anger, and it seemed odd to cuddle a pillow instead of her.

The charm woke me several hours later, and I entered the room carefully, unsure of what I would find. Ginny would often throw things at an 'intruder' during the night, and Ron was prone to hiding in his bedding. Harry was sitting bolt upright in his bed, gasping for air as shudders wracked his terribly thin frame. The half-moon clearly highlighted the tears on his face and I had been given two and a half parchments from Severus detailing how to calm the teen, which blanket he preferred to be wrapped in and even at what pace I should pat his back. Instincts led me to disregard such hard won knowledge as I sat on the edge of the bed gently, gathering him to my chest and rocking a little from side to side. Harry's fist came up and clutched the back of my dressing gown tightly as he sobbed and hiccupped.

"I c-couldn't s-stop him! I t-tried b-b-but…" the child's voice cracked and he hid in my chest again. I rubbed his back gently and bit a lip. I knew from both Severus and Albus that the Death Eaters had not succeeded in their attempts at rape, which made his words hard to follow. I also knew that Severus was in the habit of pulling Harry from his bed, relocating him from the point of his nightmare to break its hold over him. Both Molly and I did that with our own children, but on the other hand our children would always tell us what was in their dreams. While it seemed cruel to keep Harry where the terror had struck, I felt that it would be best to get him to at least give me the bare bones of the matter before breaking the dreams grip upon him. Molly, bless her heart, had trouble doing this. Any child in tears was to be immediately comforted in some way or other.

"There there, son, its all over," the words came from my heart, and Harry burrowed closer, "They can't hurt you now."

"I know they d-didn't th-then either," the shaky affirmation did my old heart good to hear, "B-but in my dreams…"

"Just dreams, Harry, and dreams can't hurt you son," I whispered as the sobs renewed their grip on him for a moment. He quieted in my arms and listened as I continued, "Sometimes our mind needs us to think things through, and nightmares are its way of doing it."

We rocked in silence for a while, and Harry calmed, his breathing evening out. He would shiver now and then, and eventually I shifted to look for the blanket that Severus had conjured for him so long ago. He was still badly underweight and more prone to feeling the cold than the rest of us. If he caught a sniffle while in my care I would never hear the end of it.

"Dad!" that panicked little word hit me harder than the Burrow falling upon my head ever could have, and I gathered him close once more. Albus had once again seen what I had not, and I mentally blessed him for pushing me towards my newest son.

"I'm not leaving, son," I whispered, "I'm looking for your blanket."

"Severus left it on the arm of the chair," Harry's voice was small, "You're not mad?"

I chuckled and dropped a kiss on messy black hair, rubbing the thin back and humming deep in my chest the way I had when my children were babies. Harry relaxed at once, his hands flexing in the back of my dressing gown.

"You didn't think Molly would adopt you without my approval, now hmm?" I whispered, "You're welcome to my family. Seven sons and a daughter, I am blessed."

"Mmm," Harry mumbled in return and relaxed nearly completely. He didn't tense when I pulled my wand and turned to summon his blanket, a sign of trust that warmed me clear through. I tucked him up snugly and fitted him under my chin.

"So tell me," I prompted softly, "What's in your dream?"

Harry sighed, and rubbed his head against my shoulder. I kept up the rocking and waited in silence. None of my children were able to outwait me, not even Percy and he'd been a stubborn little scrap once he set his mind to something.

"I'm in that little room," the soft words tumbled out finally and I listened hard to everything, both said and unsaid, "They are in there w-with me and one flips m-me onto my s-stomach. He g-gets between my l-legs and I f-feel something… he… and I get h-hard! I… its d-disgusting!"

"Shh," I soothe, "Harry, its alright."

"Alright!" he shudders violently, "How can it be alright that they … that I liked it… that my body… when I wake up…it's…"

"What really happened? When they first tried?" I know there were three attempts, though I'm not sure even Severus knows how those attempts were thwarted. If I'm to help him, I need to know it all, and I bless Merlin when Harry sighs and brings one hand up to rub my arm.

"It was like the dream, only when he went to get behind me the other Death Eaters laughed and made all sorts of … the stuff they said, the noises all told me what he was trying to do, and I sent out a pulse of Magic. It hit them all hard and they all yelled in pain… I think it was like getting kicked in the … you know."

"Mmmm," I _did_ know, more than one toddler had scored a not so lucky blow to that area by accident at one point or another, in fact sometimes I thought I was lucky not to be sterile, "And that was what you did the next two times?"

"It didn't work the third time… he'd taken something to keep… I had to hit him with a second blast," Harry sighs into my neck, his face heating. I realise that he's blushing and wonder why. He's not done anything to be embarrassed of, in fact if anything he's to be commended for defending himself so ably and without a wand no less.

"Dad, what if I dream I … what if I get … because I like… boys?" the delivery is strangled, and I realise at once why he couldn't confide in Severus. With no disrespect to the Head of Slytherin, a young man in a vulnerable position would find it hard to explore his sexual preferences with someone so… self contained.

"You love who you love, Harry," I replied gently, "Has no one spoken to you about this sort of thing?"

He shakes his head reluctantly, then takes a deep breath. What he says next is surprising to me to say the least. I had always thought that Muggles took a much more practical approach to life, given that they didn't have access to Magic.

"We learned in my Muggle school about how babies are made, I remember Aunt Petunia complaining about them polluting Dudley's mind with their smut. But Muggles don't like people who are… attracted to their own sex. They tend to disown their own children and beat them…"

"Oh dear," I kiss his hair again, a small sign of acceptance that relaxes the tiny amount of tension he'd acquired, "Our world accepts that love is love, and the union between two is to be honoured. It is even possible for a child to be born from a couple that would otherwise be considered barren. Adultery is not tolerated of course, and once you commit your life to each other, the bond can only be ended in death, but there is no stricture on the gender of each person in the couple. There are more mixed couples than not, but there is no shame attached to it."

"But why… why do I dream I get…"

"Probably because you're avoiding thinking about it during the day," it's easy to interpret that half uttered question, especially after learning to interpret young Ron's. It is a trait they both share, to my amusement, and I wonder if Ron taught it to Harry or if it was an existing habit prior to their first meeting, "Take some time to yourself during the next few days. I'll be here to answer any of your questions. What we discuss will remain between the two of us, I promise son."

"Thanks," the small whisper tailed off into a yawn and I hold my newest child for the rest of the night. My back won't thank me in the morning, but that is a small price to pay for the peace on his face as he slumbers in my arms.

0o0o0o0


	25. fussing

…_fussing…_

Severus settled into the guest armchair in his mentors' office and accepted the offered cup of tea. Albus had the usual impertinent twinkle in his eye, and Severus braced himself for some of the old mans usual brand of humour. The conference had been highly amusing, and he'd had the pleasure of shooting several of his more smug fellows down in flames when they had espoused the latest ill-considered line of research on Wolfsbane as a fait acompli. There had very nearly been wands drawn, but Severus had the satisfaction of knowing he'd had the final say in the matter when he'd demonstrated beyond all doubt the flaw in their slipshod thinking.

"I see you've returned with all your limbs, and no visible injuries," Albus chuckled, "Did you enjoy yourself dear boy?"

"I did not go to enjoy myself, Albus," Severus replied smartly, "I went to ensure that my research would not be… poached."

"Of course," the serene reply was accompanied by a smile that on another Wizards face could be called slightly evil. Severus changed the subject, sensing that he would not win this argument and asked about the school and his House. Albus updated him on the mood amongst his students, and they discussed strategy to support young Draco in his quest for acceptance. Severus thought it would force the boy to build some character instead of relying upon the family reputation. Struggling to gain acceptance based on his own merits would do the boy some good.

Fawkes fluttered to sit on Albus' desk as Severus finished his tea, and he eyed the Phoenix with some alarm. Its feathers were starting to look a little ragged, though Albus seemed entirely relaxed about the creature taking Severus to the summer house in this condition. Severus put his teacup aside and stood, gathering the bag that he had carried to and from the conference. He didn't trust his respected colleagues an _inch_ and there were plenty of antidotes and counter potions packed in there, just in case.

He watched as the Phoenix trilled at his pet, and then launched himself into the air. He hated travelling this way, but really didn't have much choice. The only way to portkey was to use a feather that had been specially charmed, and the charm was depleted at the moment because Fawkes was so close to his Burning Day. The Phoenix grasped him by the scruff of the neck and a moment later they were in the front parlour, the familiar room a welcome sight. He had been a little… uneasy about Harry the last few days, though he was sure Arthur could handle the teen. After all, he'd had plenty of practice on his own pack of brats.

There was a shriek and Fawkes burst into flames behind him, Burning in a glorious rain of ash, and landing on the rug with a thump. Severus sighed in annoyance and stepped on a small ember, before bending and scooping the infant Phoenix up. There was a perch by the window for just such an occurrence and he deposited the baby bird there gently, before dropping his own bag onto the nearest table and calling for Harry.

He was not surprised to receive no response. The boy would have been in here fussing over the creature that was even now crawling about in its own ashes, had he been in the house. Severus stepped out of the French doors onto the patio and looked around. The garden was still and quiet, he couldn't hear voices at all. The sky was blue, with a few clouds scudding across it, and he frowned, wondering if he should cast a locator spell on Arthur Weasley.

There was movement in the distance and he squinted for a moment, trying to make out what it was. He went hot and then cold with shock when he realised it was two figures on brooms, sprinting the length of Albus' orchard. Any good will he might have had towards Arthur evaporated in an instant; the very idea of taking a blind child out to fall from a broom to his death, especially one who was prone to breaking his fool bones on the Quidditch pitch in the first place, was mind blowing. Severus raised his wand and let out a vicious bang of fireworks, which evidently attracted their attention as the two figures paused and then headed for the house.

As they approached, Severus detected the tether spell used by mothers to keep track of their recalcitrant offspring, which didn't mitigate Arthur's folly in any way, shape or form. The tether would not support the full weight of a child, let alone hold together if the child fell at great speed. He was preparing a blistering lecture on the inadequacies of the spell when realisation struck. Harry was tethered to Arthur by Magic. Either Arthur had taught the spell to Harry, or Harry had allowed Arthur to cast upon him. This was a step forward, showing that Harry was truly recovering. As they came in to land, Severus saw that it was Arthur who had the controlling loop around his waist, and he nearly smiled proudly at the blind teen, before recovering himself and folding his arms across his chest.

"I should have known," he said as Harry touched down lightly and dismounted, beaming all over his face. There was a light to the child that he hadn't seen in a very long time, not even at school, "The moment my back is turned…"

"Hello Severus!" Harry laughed, unaffected by his lecturing tone, just as he had hoped for, "How was your conference?"

"Acceptable," Severus allowed, "The tale will wait for a few hours I am sure. Fawkes is inside; he has had a Burning Day. I think that may present a problem to your plans for leaving, Arthur."

Harry hurried forward only to be brought up short by the tether. He tsked and tapped it with a finger, frowning when it refused to dissipate.

"Ah, only the person who cast the tether can banish it, Harry," Arthur smiled, and Harry sighed, looking put upon. He didn't fool anyone though and Arthur released him from the binding, allowing Harry to prop his broom against the door with typical teenage carelessness and hurry inside to the Phoenix. Arthur also deposited his broom with a chuckle and raised an inquiring eyebrow at Severus.

"How did you discover that he could tolerate such Magic?" Severus asked in a low voice and Arthur shrugged.

"By casting it," he glanced inside to ensure that Harry couldn't hear them, though Severus had already cast a brief silencing charm. Obviously deciding not to pursue the matter the father of seven changed the subject, "So I have quite a walk ahead of me then? The edges of the wards are several hours from here I believe, and apparition is certainly impossible."

"We'll contact Albus first," Severus allowed the change for now. When Harry was asleep he would breach it with Arthur again; the man wasn't due to leave until tomorrow at any rate, "He would not leave us with no way out if the capricious bird was unavailable. I believe your son had an emergency portkey available to him during the summer. Let us see if we can locate it, and drag Harry away from the ridiculously inconvenient fire bird."

Sure enough Harry was inside, fussing over the softly complaining Fawkes. Hedwig was sitting on his arm, leaning in for a close look and at Harry's nudge she walked down his arm and draped a wing over the creature. Evidently it had been cold without its feathers and that had been the source of complaint. With Hedwig's feathers and warmth the Phoenix stopped complaining and apparently went to sleep.

"There's something moving in your bag Severus," Harry sounded amused, "It better not be a mouse."

Severus had his wand out at once and Arthur reacted just as quickly, reaching out to pull Harry to him. All thoughts of Magic casting and port keys went from his head as he ran through his mind several of the more common dangers that could be slipped into a bag and were capable of independent movement. He wouldn't put it past his peers to 'gift' him with some of the more nasty living potions ingredients, especially in light of some of his insults over the last few days.

"I brought nothing back capable of independent movement," Severus clipped out and they all pointed at the bag carefully, even Harry's fingers were glowing slightly. Making sure that Arthur had a good grip on the boy and was ready to defend him, Severus prodded his bag cautiously, causing it to tip over on the table. Several vials spilled out, and so did a lump of fur so black it was nearly blue.

"Mmrrp?" it asked them, and Severus took a moment to scan it before prodding it with his wand. It was a Kneazle kitten, and the touch of his wand made something flutter up from its fur, to form the words 'how can you make a potion out of me?' The vicious thought that he knew several ways to make potions out of the blasted thing occurred to him, though he didn't speak it aloud.

"Severus?" Harry asked, "That sounds like a cat?"

"A kneazle, Harry," Arthur corrected gently, "Charmed to display a message when prodded with a wand."

"Bloody animal liberation fools!" Severus scathed, realising when they had managed to get to his bag. There had been quite a commotion just at the end of the conference when they'd invaded and Severus had sent a few very satisfying jinxes in their direction. He'd helped tie them up in the middle of the brewing area before gathering his belongings and leaving. He'd disapparated to the sound of them whimpering over the possibility of becoming several potions ingredients themselves.

"There is a group of people who are trying to ban the use of live ingredients," Arthur murmured to Harry and Severus slanted a glance their way. The teen seemed more curious than upset, which was fine by Severus. He didn't want to deal with a Muggle raised Wizard ranting about the rights of his ingredients. It had happened before, and he'd enjoyed himself thoroughly shooting the little twerp down before expelling him from class.

"It seems harmless enough," Severus picked the kneazle out of his belongings and inspected it for a moment, causing it to purr in a very loud and ridiculous fashion, before putting it back on the table. Harry reached out curiously and the tiny little thing puffed up alarmingly and hissed, before spitting and taking a swipe at Harry with its tiny claws. Harry snatched his hand back and Severus snatched the kneazle out of the way, balancing it out behind him on the palm of his hand.

"Did it scratch you?" he asked sharply and Harry shook his head, displaying his unmarked hand peaceably for them to inspect. Severus frowned and then froze as the thing balanced its way down his arm to his shoulder. Once there, small claws attached themselves to his shoulder and it rubbed against his cheek, purring and trilling in a way that was supposed to be appealing, but made Severus want to hex it.

"I think it likes you," Harry laughed, and Severus glared in his direction. The kneazle rubbed against his cheek again.

0o0o0o0


	26. a distinct sensation of falling

…_distinct sensation of falling…_

"What colour is it?" Harry asked Arthur, and Ron's dad chuckled. He still had his arm around Harry from when they'd been preparing to deal with the threat in Severus' bag. Harry didn't mind; it felt… fatherly.

"Ink black, with deep blue highlights where the sun hits its fur. It's sitting on Severus' shoulder at the minute, purring away," Arthur sounded highly amused and Harry didn't blame him. Severus was the last person you'd expect to find cuddling a kneazle kitten, even if it apparently had the same temperament as he did.

"And the animal liberation fools?" Harry had a good guess what that was about but thought it better to ask and make sure. They were also active in the Muggle world, but for different reasons.

"They want to ban the use of live ingredients in potions. Bloodletting and fur gathering never harmed any ingredient in my dungeon, and if I require a fresh body then I use a painless and quick spell first," Severus scathed, "It dates back to the days when a few simple minded fools were tossing ingredients into cauldrons whole, to see what would happen! Had they been a little more circumspect in their experimentation the whole mess would never have occurred."

Harry swallowed hard, feeling nauseous at the thought of throwing a live animal into a cauldron of ingredients to see what would happen. He had been concerned about the live ingredients that they used in Potions at school, but once he had realised that he had used the same mouse for its fur more than once he was more reassured. He'd also witnessed Snape tearing into one of the older students for causing an ingredient 'undue distress and pain'. The Potions Master had been deftly bandaging the Niffler in question at the time, his long sallow fingers cradling the animal carefully.

"A lot of potions would have to be removed from the shelves if that happened, though, wouldn't they?" Harry leaned into Arthur's side, "Including Wolfsbane."

"Yes," Arthur acknowledged, "But it won't happen, Harry. The Ministry couldn't withstand the backlash if they banned the potion that makes the Werewolves safe. Not to mention quite a few of St Mungo's cures and palliatives rely on live sources, and no matter how much trial and experimentation has been made they've yet to find a way to substitute ingredients and still get the same results. The most the Ministry will do is tighten up the laws on the practices of potion making, and if they want to really look good they'll appoint someone to go around inspecting the Potions Masters and Mistresses of the UK to ensure they're not mistreating their ingredients."

Severus snorted, the sound underlined by the purring of the kitten, and Harry smiled. The prickly Potions Master sounded so… disgusted by the whole situation. His teacher barely tolerated Umbridge and her inspections, Harry pitied the flunky that was sent to ensure Snape was being ethical with his ingredients.

"If it was charmed to give off a message when you poked it with a wand, will it have other charms on it?" Harry referred back to the subject at hand, and Severus sighed. There was a faint tearing sound as he pulled the kitten off his shoulders and a few muttered incantations. Arthur's arm tightened around Harry's shoulder and then the father of seven began to laugh.

"What?" Harry hated not knowing what was happening as soon as others did, though those around him were very good at relaying information. There was only so much that spells could do to compensate for blindness, and reading the results of someone else's casting was well beyond his reach.

"It's been given a charmed version of the love potion, Harry," Severus sounded weary, "The charm has ensured that it is… attuned to me. I would suggest you avoid it as much as possible until the potion wears off, it is likely to scratch you otherwise."

A kneazle kitten that was in love with the Head of Slytherin House; Harry couldn't stifle his laughter, leaning against Arthur for support, even as the potions master tutted and muttered imprecations at them. Harry did his best to regain control of himself and it was doubtful he would have succeeded if he hadn't heard the cry from outside.

It was despairing, full of pain, and it sobered him in an instant, straightening up and turning to look forgetfully out into the garden. Arthur's laughter was tapering off, and even the kitten fell silent, as if it could sense the need of the person calling.

"What was that?" Harry murmured, "Severus?"

"I heard nothing," Severus murmured and a strong hand landed lightly on Harry's shoulder. The cry echoed again even more urgently, and Harry had the distinct sensation of falling, his wings almost in tatters.

"He's falling!" he blurted and ducked from beneath the touch of the two men with him. In a trice he was out of the door, catching hold of the broom he'd abandoned, almost twirling it in his hand to mount and kicking off from a running start. He could feel the other as he fell towards the earth, the hunter behind screeching in victory. Wards were breached and passed, and Harry arrowed through the air as quickly as the old broom would allow, vaguely aware that Severus was flying behind him, shouting words that the wind carried away unheard.

The hunter gave a victorious cry, a scream that sounded like a rusty drawbridge lowering, and Harry threw his hand forward, feeling Magic sizzle away from him to strike the hunter squarely. The backlash prickled all over, but Harry knew he had hit and destroyed his target, and he dipped his broom quickly, coming up beneath the injured prey. Solid weight impacted on his arms and chest and he grunted, leaning back to balance and bringing the broom into a hover.

A familiar cry echoed in his ears and Harry cradled the ragged Phoenix carefully to him, shushing gently and securing his grip. In his headlong dash to catch it he had lost all orientation with the house and fields, so he had no idea which way to go to get back. There was a rush of displaced air moments later and then Severus was securing them together with the tether spell that Arthur used.

"_If_ you don't _mind_," the voice was furiously icy and Harry sighed, knowing he was in for a terrible lecture once they got back onto solid ground, "The house is _this_ way, _Potter_."

"yes sir," he murmured and turned the broom with his knees, steering along slowly and trusting in the fuming man on the other end of the tether. No matter how angry Severus was right now, Harry knew without a doubt that he was as safe in this mans care as he had been in his mothers' arms.

It was a nice feeling.

0o0o0o0

There was a familiar flash, and Albus looked up. Arthur stood in front of his desk, precisely on target, a Phoenix hovering above his shoulder. Fawkes was earlier returning than Albus had expected, and he turned to look at his familiar, worried that the travel would bring on a Burning Day for him. It was something of a shock to watch a slightly scruffy Peruvian Golden Phoenix detach from Arthur's collar, sing a single note in farewell and flash away.

"Arthur!" Albus leapt up and Arthur smiled, holding his hands up in supplication. Albus refrained from the intended interrogation and folded his arms, hitting the man opposite him with the automatic 'teachers glare' that he had mastered so long ago and still found effective on students and parents alike. Even the Minister for Magic was affected by that look.

"Fawkes had a Burning Day, but he's alright. You could say I hitched a lift. I have a lot to tell you Albus, and it won't make sense if I tell you out of sequence," Arthur had long ago proved himself immune to the glare, though Severus was not. Albus counted himself lucky in that regard, sometimes the glare was the only way to manage Severus Snape, especially when he was in his 'pigheaded' mode.

"Very well," Albus gave in and came around the desk to join Arthur by the cheerful fireplace. It was getting quite cool now, though his summerhouse was still experiencing fairly mild weather. Tea appeared on the low table and Albus restrained his curiosity, pouring out and letting the other man get comfortable. Fortunately, Arthur was not the sort of person to draw out suspense.

"Well, firstly, I want to thank you for sending me to my son, Albus. You were right about that, though I'd not expected it. Harry and I had a long chat that first day, which resulted in several startling discoveries. He's given me permission to tell his grandfather what we discussed, though he'd rather the Headmaster didn't know," Arthur smiled at him over the teacup and Albus had to take a moment to recover himself. That Harry had named him so was an honour he'd never expected.

"Harry has been missing flying, and I'd brought a couple of old bangers along from the Burrow, so we decided that in the afternoons we'd fly for a while. To keep him inside the wards I used the tether spell that Molly always used on our toddlers. Harry beamed so brightly when he realised that he could stand to have Magic cast on him I'm surprised you didn't see the light all the way over here," Arthur chuckled, "Severus and I think that the way Harry has had to cast since he was rescued has helped him overcome his block."

"The bounce back," Albus realised and Arthur nodded. Harry had essentially been casting spells on himself for months now, his Magic creating a bounce back that told him what effects his incanting had. That harmless, indeed vital, bounce back had helped their young man to overcome his panic response. Harry would not object to Arthur casting on him especially if it meant he could go flying, so the tether spell had not triggered a panic response.

"I cast a few other spells on him as well, cleaning spells and the odd drying or warming charm when we flew, and he tolerated all of those as if nothing had ever spooked him," Arthur reported proudly, "Severus has also cast upon him, and he was furious at the time, but Harry was not at all worried by it."

"Why was Severus furious?" Albus asked in alarm, and once again, Arthur raised a hand to calm him. It was a well-practiced action, one that spoke of experience with numerous excitable children. Albus wasn't sure he liked it directed at him.

"As I said before, when he returned Severus to the summer house, Fawkes had a burning day. We were out flying at the time and Severus had to summon us inside. Harry and Hedwig made Fawkes comfortable while Severus and I watched on, and then Harry mentioned that Severus' bag was moving. The long and short of it is that Severus had been slipped a Kneazle kitten at his conference by the animal liberation front, and it has been treated with a charmed love potion that was attuned to Severus. Harry and I both found this highly amusing, and in the general hilarity that followed Harry heard a cry for help. Neither Severus or I could hear it, and Harry was out of the door before we could secure him."

"The Phoenix that transported you," Albus realised, and Arthur nodded, smiling.

"Yes, he was being attacked by a Lethifold. His wings were hurt, and he fell through the wards, which I guess you have set up to allow easy access to any Phoenix?"

"Yes," Albus nodded, "There is no danger of a Phoenix connecting to the Dark, and Fawkes once had a mate visit him there. I never found out what happened to her, and it seemed cruel to bar his own kind from our home."

"Well Harry was on his broom and heading for the hunter and hunted before we had a chance to stop him. Severus took my broom and went after him, but before he could catch up, Harry was glowing with golden energy, just as he did when… when Percy attacked him."

The stumble was nearly imperceptible, and Albus knew that the family were having a hard time forgiving the third eldest son for his actions, despite the fact that there was no real harm done to Harry. Young Percy was finding it difficult to find employment in the light of his actions and Albus was considering intervening for Arthur and Molly's sake.

"The Lethifold was destroyed in a flash, and Harry caught the Phoenix. Severus arrived moments later and tethered them together before leading Harry and the Phoenix back to the house. Severus was furious that Harry had taken such a risk, but I think that Harry hadn't any choice in the matter. They were destined to be bond mates, much as you and Fawkes are."

"Yes," Albus murmured. He and Fawkes had been destined to be together as bond mates, and he could not ignore a summons from Fawkes, any more than he could ignore his body's need for oxygen. Harry would have responded to the call of his bond mate no matter what his current circumstances were, and Albus was sure that Severus could be brought to understand this if Harry hadn't told him so already.

"Their aura's flared bright gold once Harry was back on solid ground, and there was a burst of Phoenix song. When the light died down Harry was holding a healed Phoenix in his arms, and it was cooing at him happily. He took it over to Hedwig for introductions and then stood still for Severus' blistering lecture. From the look of things they'll hash it out over the next few hours. I wasn't worried when I left."

Nor was Albus. Harry could hold his own and would realise that the bluster was primarily from concern for his well-being. Severus would understand the facts of the matter once presented to him, and in the meantime there was one more guardian for their boy.

"Harry asked it to bring me home once Severus went to unpack, and I'm sure they'll have cleared the air by now," Arthur put his tea cup down and crossed his legs comfortably, a sure sign he was not worried that Severus would use Harry for Potions ingredients in his ire.

"Thank you, Arthur," Albus smiled, "And the… other matter? I assume that Harry has confided his … ordeal to you?"

"Yes," Arthur sighed, "And I understand why he didn't want to discuss it with Severus at first, though my understanding is that he'll try to tell his uncle what is bothering him."

Albus beamed at the reference to uncles and then settled back to listen to the last piece of the puzzle. It was sure to be unpleasant but he couldn't stand the idea that a future comment or action might cause Harry discomfort of any kind. In his ignorance he was more likely to say or do something that could hurt his charge. That would not be tolerated.

0o0o0o0


	27. without panicing

…_without panicking…_

Severus had to admit that once Harry had explained things, he couldn't fault the boys' actions. The bond between Fawkes and Albus was plainly evident for all to see, and the one between Harry and the Golden Phoenix was just as strong. Once it had been described to him, Harry had identified and explained the difference between the Peruvian Phoenix and the Greater Phoenix. The golden creature was more like a raptor than a swan, though it had a tail that was just as long. It also had a sharper temper, which made sense if you thought about it. Albus was a very placid person, though once his temper was up he was a formidable opponent. Harry was much quicker tempered, though he was also much quicker to calm than Albus.

The naming of the Phoenix and the kitten, much to Severus' annoyance he could hardly let the besotted thing starve, no matter how little he wanted a 'familiar' of his own, was surprisingly easy. Harry suggested Ink for the kitten, based upon Arthur's description, and the name wasn't too objectionable to Severus. He commented on the fact that the Phoenix wasn't as 'flash' as Fawkes, which the creature reacted to with an approving chirp. Harry had called it Flash ever since, as accepting as the creature of his contributions.

The teen had managed after a few false starts to explain the contents of his nightmares. The news that the boy was attracted to his own sex had not been as surprising as one would think. Cho Chang had been the more… enthusiastic… of the two when they were a couple, and Severus had seen time and again that Harry preferred the company of young Ron, or any other boy; the Misses Granger and Weasley had been the exceptions to the rule. Severus was not inclined to his own gender; was in fact still in love with the girl with red hair and green eyes. She had married his enemy, and Harry didn't need to know that. His life as a spy had not allowed him to form new attachments, and he was not intending to rush out and look for one at the moment.

With Harry once more able to tolerate Magic being cast upon him without panicking, Severus moved their lessons forward apace. Charms and transfiguration were not his area of expertise, but Defence Against the Dark Arts was, and he taught that with a will. It was difficult to work around Harry's new limitations and the teen found it as frustrating as Severus, but they both knew that Lord Voldemort would not fail to exploit any chink in Harry's armour. Blind or not, Harry had to know how to fight, and as the weeks progressed he learned. They were not always successful in their lessons, and some things had to be subjected to the old stand by of trial and error, but there was not a spell that Harry couldn't master given time and adequate explanation of the expected effects.

His own research was proceeding well, and his test subject was reacting favourably to the improved formulation. Lupin reported that the changes were becoming calmer, and he was recovering much more quickly from the effects of the change. Severus would be unable to cure the Lycanthropy, but Remus had confessed to the Potions Master that the wolf was part of him now, and he wasn't sure he wanted to be rid of it. That made a sort of sense to Severus, he was still surprised to see his bare forearm, lacking the Mark that had been branded bone and soul deep.

Harry sighed, and Severus looked up in time to see his charge rubbing his forehead carefully. There was no concern that the Dark Lord was attacking the teen through his cursed scar, Harry's mental defences were formidable, forged in the midst of peril and torment. They had tested them as thoroughly as they could once Harry was over his panic response, and Severus' Legilimency had failed to breach them at all. He was confident that Harry could withstand the direct attack of the Dark Lord.

"Headache?" Severus got up, abandoning Ink and the books he was reading at the table, "This is the third time this week, Harry."

Harry sighed and leaned into his touch as Severus rubbed a hand through the perpetually messy hair. From his perch by the door Flash cooed softly, waking Hedwig and Fawkes. The Headmaster's familiar had re-grown all its flight feathers, something that the three avians and Harry had celebrated by touring the grounds, Harry shepherded along on his Firebolt by all three. Severus had stood by the window in his bedroom and watched them swoop and twirl through the air, admiring the confidence and comfort Harry displayed in flight. Young Mr Malfoy had been hopelessly outclassed on the Quidditch pitch - in fact there wasn't a single student that was Harry's equal on a broomstick. Even Charlie Weasley was awkward in the air in comparison; and Victor Krum had lacked the subtlety that Harry owned.

"Perhaps we are working you too hard?" Severus mused as the avians fluttered to join them. Hedwig claimed Harry's shoulder, nibbling on his ear in a concerned manner, while Flash settled in the teens lap and trilled softly, joined in harmony by Fawkes who chose to alight on Severus' shoulder, much to the displeasure of Ink who was trying to scale his robes with the same goal in mind.

"I only practiced with you for four hours today!" Harry protested, "At school…"

"You are not at school," Severus reminded him, ignoring the hissing kitten and restless Phoenix that were using him as a perch, "And you are still underweight. The nutrient potion is not as effacious as I would like."

In point of fact he was researching a way to make it much more effective by tailoring it to Harry's metabolism and body type. He didn't like the fact that Harry was barely maintaining the weight he had gained, and seemed to have reached some kind of plateau in that area. Harry was still very… frail, and it disturbed Severus. The boy could not complete his task in this state, and failure was not to be considered.

"You need to rest Harry," Severus decided, choosing to disregard the stubborn scowl the teen was now wearing, "Put away your books for now. You can stretch out on the couch until supper, and you'll go to bed early tonight. You can have a headache potion if you want it."

"No thanks," Harry sulked at the table, but Severus was able to overlook that. If the child preferred to sleep the pain away that was acceptable, especially as headache potions could be addictive.

He was quite worried when Harry relented after supper and asked for the potion in a very small voice.

0o0o0o0

"Headaches," Ron sighed, the news settling like a hot stone in his stomach, "Just what he needs."

Albus nodded, his face sombre and Ron drew up a knee, resting his cheek on it as he thought over the latest news. That Harry and Severus were duelling in their own fashion was a good thing, and Ron couldn't wait to see it; that Harry was now regularly experiencing headaches was bad. None of those who had seen Harry's broken body wanted him to suffer so much as a paper cut now, the thought of him bearing further pain sparking an irrational desire to wrap him up and put him somewhere safe. Ron was regularly experiencing urges to wrap Harry in his arms and hold him close, with some rather emphatic physical reactions to that scenario. It was something he wanted to talk to Harry about, hoping that his friend would be amenable to seeing if they could replace Harry's memory of pain with pleasure. The fact that the pain Harry was now experiencing was actually coming from within Harry and therefore difficult to escape didn't ease their minds at all; the fact that Harry would laugh in their faces if any of them tried to protect him from the world was not a comforting thought either.

Albus sipped his tea and Ron stirred out of his thoughts, reaching for his own cup. He had initially thought that these weekly meetings had been arranged to pass letters from Harry and update Ron on his friend's progress. He had been very surprised when Albus had made the effort to find out how _his_ week was going, to talk over the nitty gritty of _Ron's_ daily life. It was a comfort to know that Albus was interested in him as a person rather than as an accessory of Harry's life, and Ron had made the effort to ask after Albus as well. He had the idea that Albus was missing Severus' more acidic presence on the staff, stirring up both faculty and students alike. With the twins out of school you couldn't even turn to the student population for a good laugh either.

"Severus hasn't been able to discern their cause," Albus murmured, recalling Ron's thoughts, "Harry's Magic is preventing it. Upon closer examination, the spells that Harry will allow anyone to cast upon him are all spells that interact with his surface Magic only. Anything deeper continues to be rejected and Severus just doesn't have the expertise in healing spells to engineer something that will overcome this obstacle. Harry will be coming here for Christmas, and Poppy will look him over for us."

Ron beamed despite the bad news. Harry missed the school and had mentioned in a letter that he often walked the halls 'in memory' to feel closer to the school and its inhabitants. Ron knew that they would all be together for Christmas one way or another - Harry had promised to send Flash for him at the very least. The Peruvian Phoenix had visited Ron once, about three weeks after the bonding, and had taken some of his hairs away. He had no idea why, but the light creature had been so determined to do it that he had only raised a token objection.

"Are there many students staying for Christmas? Will Harry be able to walk around the school with me?" he took another sip of his tea, strong with a hint of milk, just the way he liked it. It was a small comfort, that the Headmaster had made a point of learning how Ron liked his tea, just as Ron had replenished the dish of lemon drops that had been low at the last Hogsmede visit.

"There will be the Mercy twins from Hufflepuff, Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger. I believe your sister is going home with Miss Lovegood for the holiday?"

"Yes," Ron nodded, thinking that the unusual friendship had become quite close quite quickly; a good thing as neither girl seemed to have many friends. Luna was isolated because of her unique and unusual way of looking at things, and Ginny was isolated because of the events of her first year. Ron was glad that the girls had found friends in each other, Ginny was a lot happier in the common room at night as a result.

"I just hope that Hermione can contain her… lectures," Ron sighed, "She still doesn't approve of the Draco situation."

In fact Hermione seemed to think that Ron had been confounded by a spell or something, and was always after him to have Madame Pomfrey look him over. She'd mentioned trust more than once, and Ron was getting heartily sick of the situation.

"Ron," Albus frowned, his tone stern, "I have told you already. You may tell her that I requested this of you. Even Harry has urged you to show his letter discussing the situation with you to Miss Granger."

"I don't want to do that, Albus," Ron replied stubbornly, "I… It's hard to explain. I don't want Hermione to trust me because you have told her to, or because Harry has asked her to. I want her to trust me to know what I'm doing because she thinks I'm worth trusting… does that even make sense?"

"You want her to admit that you know what you are doing, without having anyone interfere with her decision to trust you," Albus sighed, "I don't like to see you at odds with your friend. I know you are not… well, perhaps I shouldn't meddle."

"I don't mind your meddling, sometimes," Ron grinned cheekily, "If for example you wanted to meddle with my homework allotment… say reduce it…"

"Or increase it," the mock threat lost a lot of its impact when the person delivering it was twinkling in merriment. Ron pretended horror anyway and won a chuckle from the elderly Wizard sitting opposite. They smiled at each other, taking the moment and savouring it.

"We'll work it out, Albus," Ron promised, "One way or another. And besides, it's not long until Harry comes to Hogwarts. That's something to look forward to."

In fact it was a beacon of hope in the darkness. Not that Ron would care to say that aloud.

0o0o0o0


	28. protacted embrace

…_protracted embrace…_

Fawkes' croon of welcome was the first thing he heard, followed by Albus' calling his name. Harry beamed and put his arms out, sending a small pulse of Magic ahead to navigate the unfamiliar territory of the Headmaster's office. He was folded into a warm hug and returned the embrace wholeheartedly. Today was a 'good' day - he'd woken without a headache and was feeling a lot more energetic than he had of late. The slight use of Magic hadn't triggered a headache, and he was home. That fact alone gave him a bigger boost than all the others put together.

"Hello Albus," he mumbled into a velvet-clad shoulder. He could feel patterns in the robes he was holding, and knew that they would doubtless be brightly coloured.

"Good to see you dear boy," Albus sighed, and Harry heard the unspoken portion of that sentence clearly: 'though I wish you were looking a little better'. Severus was so worried about him that he had stipulated that Harry was to stop using Magic for lessons, and had changed their duels to non magical ones - in fact Harry thought of them more as a game than a duel. Too much casting during the day brought on a headache, and they were getting more and more severe as time passed. Severus had even remarked that he'd lost a lot of colour and Harry knew he wasn't putting on weight any more; the changing flavours of his breakfast indicated that Severus had been trying to boost the effects of the potions he was still under mandate to take on a daily basis.

Flash trilled gently and Severus made a very startled noise behind them. Harry twisted in the Headmaster's arms, turning towards the sound in concern.

"Severus? What's wrong?" it was getting harder and harder to put up with the constant and unending blackness; harder to have to ask than simply glance over and see the trouble for himself. Harry wanted to yell and scream and rail against it, but was so far controlling the temper tantrum, afraid that giving in to his feelings in such a manner would irrevocably harm his friendly relationship with Severus. The man prized self control and self knowledge, and Harry knew himself well enough to know that once he got started, the emotion would take control completely and allow him to say all sorts of things he would regret, about everyone.

"Ink," Severus' voice was completely disgusted and Albus chuckled. Harry could imagine the expression on Severus' face, he'd seen it often enough in class. The potion-affected kitten had not lost any of its fascination with Severus, though it no longer attacked Harry if he simply walked by. The first time it had done that Severus had very nearly drowned it in a potion the man was making. It had taken some fast-talking to save the kitten, Harry had to point out that the scratches would heal quickly, and that he'd suffered worse.

"In your bag again?" Severus had been carrying bags for them both, though Harry had argued he could manage his own luggage. The kitten had realised this morning that they were going somewhere and had tried to stow away in Severus' cloak and then his robe pocket. The Potions Master had secured his bag against invasion, muttering darkly all the while, but obviously not well enough.

"Yes, the wretched creature has mastered the strap and slid underneath."

"So much for your insistence on leaving a refilling spell on her bowl," Harry sighed, "Maybe you should get Crookshanks to have a word with her. He's half Kneazle."

"Mmm," Severus droned in response, not sounding too impressed with the thought of asking Hermione Granger's cat to sort out his unwelcome familiar. Albus rubbed Harry's back gently and Harry offered a grin in the Headmasters direction.

"Ron will be here as soon as the carriages return from the station. I believe he was seeing his sister and Miss Lovegood off to their holiday. Hagrid has asked me to issue an invitation to you to have afternoon tea with him, and Ron will find you there, if that is acceptable, Harry."

"Yeah, I'd like that," Harry admitted, stepping finally out of the protracted embrace, "Will Hagrid be coming to collect me or can I walk on my own?"

He was well aware that Hogwarts was a different kettle of fish when it came to navigating the halls and stairs. The summer house was static in its layout, and the castle was most decidedly not. He knew how confusing the place could be when you could see, and he wasn't planning to go wandering off alone. He didn't want to lose his independence though, and wondered what Albus had arranged for him. Ron would be all right, and Severus knew his thoughts on being dependent on others, but Albus was a kind-hearted man, and Harry didn't like to reject his well-meant help.

"Professor McGonagall wanted to see you as well, in fact she has just arrived at the bottom of the stairs. She will walk you to Hagrid's hut if that is acceptable to you. There will be dinner in the Great Hall as usual, Severus and I will see you there. Madame Pomfrey has insisted that you go to see her first thing tomorrow, and I imagine that Ron and Miss Granger will walk you there."

"Ok then," Harry smiled. Albus had come up with an unspoken compromise; Harry would walk only with company, but company carefully chosen to allow his independence, "I'll see you both at dinner. Am I sleeping in the Tower?"

"Ron insisted," Albus said dryly, but Harry just beamed. He was looking forward to spending as much time with Ron as possible. He'd missed the redhead immensely.

0o0o0o0

Ron wanted to urge the Thestrals to move faster. He was certain he could run to the castle quicker than these nightmarish beasts were moving and was having a very hard time not pulling his wand out to encourage them to a more speedy rate of travel. Harry was at Hogwarts - in fact at this moment he should be sitting with Hagrid, having tea and rock cakes made from real rocks. He had wanted to see his sister off on her holidays and had accepted many messages for Harry from both Ginny and Luna who had finally gotten onto the train, but right now he was regretting the brotherly impulse.

The school gates flashed by and Ron tensed, the hand that was already gripping the door handle applying slight pressure so as to be ready the moment the Thestrals stopped. Moments later he was down on the ground, ignoring the ankle deep snow as he hurried away from the House elves and stables and around the corner of the castle to Hagrid's hut.

The lopsided structure had never been so enticing, from the crooked steps to the smoke curling from the chimney. Ron had a moments worry about getting Harry safely down the steps without a handrail and then dismissed it, figuring that Hagrid would be there to catch his friend if he stumbled. In fact the half giant would probably carry Harry back to the castle if they let him. Hagrid had always had the softest spot for Harry, and Ron didn't begrudge the half-giant this opportunity to have afternoon tea with the Boy Who Lived. Harry would be staying in the Tower with Ron for the next week or so, and he could afford to share during the day with the others in the castle, at least a little. He skidded up the steps eagerly and knocked loudly, only barely able to wait until Hagrid's voice called for him to come in.

"Hello Hagrid," Ron could afford to remember his manners, especially as the half-giant had been so worried about Harry at the start of term. Hagrid looked terribly worried now, though his voice was light enough when returning Ron's greeting. A glance at the frail form in the second armchair showed why.

Harry had not gained any weight at all since Ron had last seen him, and had lost a lot of the colour he'd gained over the summer as well. There was a slightly pinched quality to the corners of his eyes that spoke of pain, probably due to another of the mysterious headaches. On the other hand he was beaming in Ron's direction and eagerly setting his tea down, standing and holding his arms out.

"Hiya Harry," Ron was quick in stepping over and folding the other teen into his arms, feeling Harry nestle close and bury his face in Ron's hair, "How are you?"

"I'm fine," Harry muffled into his neck. He was drawing in huge sniffs of air, but Ron was used to that, Harry had often sniffed him over the summer, an example of his senses compensating for his lack of sight. Ron would have been happy to stand there being sniffed all afternoon if not for the fact that Hagrid would want his hut back at some point.

"How was the trip?" Ron glanced around, "Is Flash here?"

As if called the Phoenix appeared at once, trilling and settling onto the back of Harry's empty chair. Hagrid got very interested and the Phoenix obligingly glided to the seated groundskeeper to be petted and generally admired. Harry sighed and stirred in Ron's arms, reluctantly breaking the embrace.

"Budge up then," Ron mumbled and they shared the oversized chair, squeezing in tightly. Ron watched Hagrid and the Phoenix for a moment and then turned to look his friend over again.

"How's the head?" the question was so soft that Hagrid would not have been able to hear it and Harry sighed miserably. That was all the answer Ron needed though. His next suggestion would probably earn him a glare, but he could no more stay quiet than he could stop breathing.

"You should come lie down before dinner," he suggested, "It might help get rid of the headache and I'll stay with you of course."

"I'd like that," Harry replied, "If not for the complications that could arise."

"What complications?" Flash was singing loudly for Hagrid, perched upon the mans knee. He had done that to Ron just before demanding some hairs. The redhead couldn't spare the attention away from Harry's strange comment to warn the half-giant about what was likely to happen next.

"I'm pretty sure I'm gay…" the admission was surprising to Ron and he had no problem following Harry's train of thought to its logical conclusion. If Harry were gay and attracted to Ron, there would be physical reactions to the two of them sharing a bed. They'd gotten into the habit of cuddling close during Harry's summer recovery and now that Harry obviously felt stronger…

"I don't care," Ron replied, a flash of insight telling him exactly what he'd been feeling ever since that first terrible instant he'd laid eyes on Harry this summer, "I'm pretty sure I love you."

Harry beamed and melted against his side, relief erasing subtle lines of stress from his face, lines that Ron hadn't consciously noted until they were gone. Hagrid yelped as Flash stole some hairs and flashed away, and the surrealism of the situation struck Ron as funny.

Only he and Harry could manage to declare themselves to each other in front of a beard stealing Phoenix and the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, and not have either member of their audience notice it.

Harry stirred in the chair and Ron started the process of leave taking from Hagrid, promising to see the man at dinner and collecting the winter cloak that Hagrid had draped on the mantle to catch the fires warmth. He'd walk Harry back to the Tower and they'd rest for a while before dinner. With a bit of luck, Madame Pomfrey would figure out the headaches tomorrow and they could spend Christmas peaceably together.

0o0o0o0


	29. as he always was

…_as he always was…_

In honour of the holidays and given that there were only five students present the House Elves had been given instructions to set up one of the House tables for everyone to eat at. Harry's unconventional friendship with Dobby had made Albus consider a previously unknown blind spot in his dealings with a magical race of some importance; while he knew better than to free elves willy nilly, he now sought ways to cut down on their workload without upsetting them. The staff was presently ranged up and down the table, which uncharacteristically had no House banner over it, and all the students save two had already arrived.

There was a noise at the door of the Great Hall and Albus looked up hopefully, aware that most of his staff and all of the students were looking up with him. The students, with the exception of Miss Granger, didn't know that they had a visitor, picking up on the tension of the teachers instead. The staff of course knew that Harry was here, Hagrid couldn't keep a secret at all, and most were curious about their former pupil; there had been several inquiries as to his health over the last term. As if summoned by their thoughts, two figures appeared in the door and Albus swallowed a chuckle.

Harry Potter stood in the doorway, bracketed by Ron Weasley as he always was. Albus was pretty sure that young Ronald had designs on his dear boy, and hoped that Harry reciprocated. They were an excellent match, and Albus would perform the hand fasting himself the moment they asked, if Arthur hadn't already lined himself up for that privilege. Harry wore his school robes, trimmed with the usual House colours, his untameable hair in its customary disarray. He was still too thin and pale for Albus' liking, and it looked as if he'd been sleeping this afternoon, and of course his glasses were missing, but he was recognisable as the student that had left just before summer.

"Harry!" Miss Granger called, her voice a complex mixture of happiness to see him, horror at his condition, and annoyance that he hadn't come to see her earlier. Albus watched as she got up and ran towards the teen. Harry spread his feet a little to brace himself for the impact, his hands coming up to catch her. Thankfully Miss Granger slowed and came to a halt, catching his hands rather than his body in a fierce grip. Albus eased his wand back into his sleeve, which he had drawn surreptitiously to prevent a fall for Harry.

"Happy Christmas Harry!" Albus tuned the conversation out, turning back to his goblet of wine and glancing discretely at Draco Malfoy. Young Draco was struggling, but mastering himself well. His face was a confusion of mortified fear and barely hidden pity, directed at both Harry and himself. Albus thought it much better for the teen to see first hand the lasting effect of his father's handiwork; all the better to deter him from trying to emulate the former head of the Malfoy line. He had not discussed Draco with Harry, though he had sent word to the teen that the Malfoy heir was remaining at Hogwarts for the Christmas holiday. Whatever thoughts Harry had on the situation he was keeping them to himself. Albus would press for answers if the need arose but was happy to let Harry decide how to act for now.

"Blocking the door again Potter?" Severus' familiar sneer drew Albus' attention back to the trio in the doorway. Miss Granger immediately glared at their Potions Master, Harry smiled and young Ronald looked surprised for a moment, before offering a tentative smile of his own. Severus' was wearing his usual intimidating teachers robes, the dramatic black enhancing his menacing air nicely. He'd changed then, because he'd been wearing the less formal robes from the summer house when they had arrived in Albus' office, which the Headmaster had taken as a good sign.

A relaxed Severus was so rare; a relaxed Severus in the presence of a student unheard of. He and Harry had truly forged a relationship together, one of mentor and mentored at the very least, perhaps one of nephew and uncle. Severus needed more family than Albus to care for him - the Potions Master took a lot of caring for, in his own subtle way.

"You know me sir, I have to give my fan club time to appreciate me," Harry replied cheekily, and there was a gasp from a member of staff. Prior to summer a remark like that would have Gryffindor in negative points and at least a month of detention assigned; not to mention the withering hail of invective that would have accompanied the punishment. Albus smirked into his beard, glad to hear the cheek; it meant that Harry was not reverting to his old patterns of behaviour with Severus, as influenced by their return to the castle.

"Indeed," Severus droned, "Well if you don't mind, I'd like to have my dinner now."

"Not at all sir, please do go ahead," Harry stepped aside and gave a little bow, the action only slightly marred by bumping into the door. Albus was in the perfect position to see Severus' hand unobtrusively steadying their Harry before the Potions Master swept into the Hall and took his seat beside Minerva; who had the grace not to gape at him like a landed fish.

Albus had two empty seats beside him and Harry sent a wave of Magic out to find them, walking over confidently enough and settling beside his Headmaster easily. Food was already on the table and young Ron began to dish up, passing Harry the dishes and swapping them out when Harry had served himself. Slowly conversation resumed at the table, and Albus leaned down to speak to Harry quietly, confirming that Harry had been napping with Ron prior to dinner and inquiring after his persistent headaches. The napping was a step backwards, though it may well have been an excuse for the teens to hold each other close for a while. Albus dearly hoped that was the case.

"I'm ok at the moment," the less than promising answer made Albus want to weep. Harry didn't deserve this pain, and he felt so helpless to relieve him from it. Right now Poppy was their only hope.

0o0o0o0

Poppy had been unable to discern what was ailing Harry. To the considerable frustration of all involved she had been unable to find a way to persuade his Magic to allow the deep scan that the better diagnostic spells used, and the minor spells just weren't good enough. Albus and young Mr Weasley had not taken the news well, though they had done their best to disguise that from Harry, but it was Harry himself who took it hardest. For the first time, Severus could discern a crack in the calm and serene acceptance of his darkened world that Harry presented to the world at large.

"I can't believe you want to duel during the Christmas hols," the teen in question grumbled at Severus' side and he smirked, knowing Harry would hear it in his voice when he replied. The boy was more perceptive than people often gave him credit for; until only a short time ago Severus himself had been one of their number. Harry was upset and off balance and while Ron was in no state to help him, and Albus locked away with the school Matron trying to re-engineer several spells to overcome this barrier, the task of restoring his equanimity had fallen to Severus.

He had the perfect comment lined up as well. It was guaranteed to bring Harry out of his brooding and at the same time so implausible that no one would ever believe he had said it, no matter how convincingly Harry reported it. Severus pushed open the door of the disused classroom and glanced over at his charge.

"I'm bored: play with me."

Harry gasped and then burst into laughter so hearty that he doubled over with it, one hand flailing out to catch hold of the doorjamb for balance, the other wrapped around his ribs as if to keep them from splitting with the force of his hilarity. Severus entered the room fully, knowing that it would be shadowed enough to hide him from any casual observer should Harry's laughter attract attention. After a few moments his charge regained control of himself and successfully entered the room, shutting the door carelessly behind him.

"If you're _quite_ finished?" Severus droned the question, eliciting another round of giggles as Harry straightened his robes and came to a stop a few feet away. Severus had to admit that he approved of the robes. Harry was making the most of his return to his alumni, and the memories that he would garner here would sustain him through the next period of separation from Mr Weasley. You didn't have to be a former spy to see that something had changed in their relationship just this afternoon.

A flick of his wand cleared the tables and benches to the sides of the room, and Harry's Magic pulsed gently past Severus, showing the teen the new room he was in. Poppy had forbidden the use of all Magic not related to helping Harry 'see' where he was going, and even that was supposed to be limited. Severus thought that the school Matron feared some undiagnosed injury to the brain was causing the persistent headaches, and as Harry was most often in pain after a lesson requiring him to use a lot of his Magic, the restriction on its use made sense.

Fortunately, Severus had long ago come up with a way to practice duelling that required no Magic on Harry's part at all. It was similar to a game that he had once seen the Slytherin Quidditch team try in an effort to get their Seeker to improve his skills. The team had used a variety of small balls, enchanted to move quickly around the Seeker, who had to stand in one place and catch as many as possible. Severus had adapted the game to Harry's situation. As Harry's abilities had improved he had increased the difficulty of the game.

A flick of his wand conjured a selection of balls, different sizes and colours, all of them hollow in the centre. A second flick and there were small bells filling that hollowed space. Harry would bat the balls away with his hands, or catch them and throw them back at his opponent while Severus levitated the balls around him, depending on how well he was tracking the objects. The number of balls flying around him of course varied depending on how well Harry was concentrating. They had once had as many as six balls in the air, though that had never been repeated. Harry could usually manage three or four; with the advent of the headaches, five was out of the question. There had been days lately when Harry had been hard pressed to manage two.

"Are you sure this is not just some elaborate plot to get me to play catch with you?" Harry's tone was faintly suspicious, and an oft heard complaint. The teen liked the familiarity of their friendly bickering, and Severus liked that the teen was familiar enough with him to discern the difference between bickering and actual rancour.

"I am," Severus droned, and flicked a ball at the teen, the high-pitched bell tinkling as its container tumbled through the air. Harry slapped it away easily and Severus had to flick his wand sharply to redirect its flight. Once they were able to duel properly again, Harry would be able to aim his rebounded spells with deadly accuracy, not to mention the difficulty any opponent would have getting a spell past his formidable defences. Harry would no longer have to count his shield as his only line of magical defence.

"You know, this would be a great game for a Seeker," it was sad to see that Harry no longer classed himself as one, despite the short broom flights he'd taken lately. The ball was swatted away several times in quick succession, with both hands coming in to play. Severus judged that it was time for a distraction.

"It was one," Severus revealed. They had not discussed the origins of the game they played, and yes, Severus did consider it a game. He sped the little balls actions, zipping it around Harry who was constantly tilting his head to better catch the sounds.

"The Slytherin team once used another version of this very scenario to train a Seeker whose reflexes were not as sharp as the team required," he murmured, "The game got out of hand when the Seeker in question let lose a bolt of accidental Magic and pelted the rest of the team with every lose object in a ten foot radius. Madam Pomfrey spent days pulling objects out of the team."

"Urk," Harry looked faintly revolted, and Severus flicked his wand, sending a second ball Harry's way. Severus could sympathise with the sentiment: his own reaction had been a bit more than 'urk'.

"Indeed."

"Hey!" the new ball bounced off his students shoulder and Harry grabbed the first, throwing it at Severus in retaliation. His aim was so good that Severus had to duck to avoid it, "Not fair!"

"Life is not fair, Mr Potter. How Gryffindor of you to expect it to be," the old taunt hung in the air even as he charmed another ball to join the one that was still in their field of play. Harry smirked faintly in his direction, but all further discourse was rudely interrupted.

"Stop it!" a shrill voice shrieked from the doorway, and Severus dropped both balls immediately, whirling to face the door. It seemed that Harry had been more careless than the Potions Master had anticipated when shutting the door, and of course they were not discussing anything private or confidential so he had not bothered with wards. Severus had in fact been anticipating that Albus at the very least would be looking for them. Unfortunately the silhouette in the door was not Albus'. Miss Granger was framed in it, red faced and breathing heavily, and had evidently heard the last of their exchange.

Severus was more than aware of Hermione Grangers disapproval of him, and composed himself for the difficult scene that was about to follow.

0o0o0o0


	30. throwing things

…_throwing things…_

Poppy had been unable to discern what was ailing Harry. To the considerable frustration of all involved she had been unable to find a way to persuade his Magic to allow the deep scan that the better diagnostic spells used, and the minor spells just weren't good enough. Albus had just spent the better part of an hour with her, discussing the possibilities, and in the end they had reluctantly decided that a Healer from St Mungo's might be the better option. As skilled as Madam Pomfrey was in her craft, sometimes a specialist was needed to deal with the more unusual states the students found themselves in. Albus had thought it best to consult with Harry before actually calling a Healer, as he knew how skittish his young charge could be around people. He still did not react well to surprises, allowing his instincts to rule his Magic and that would of course defeat the purpose of calling a Healer in the first place.

It had only taken a moment to consult the school wards to find Harry and Severus. Albus had strolled in that direction, mentally reviewing the roster of St Mungo's for someone that he could trust with his charge, and that would put Harry at ease. Rounding the corner, Albus spotted the redoubtable Miss Granger and sighed, speeding his steps slightly as she opened the door to the room that housed his quarry. He was well aware of the glares she'd sent Severus' way over the last few meals, and was planning to speak to her about her attitude. Young Ron was utterly heartbroken that she would not trust him, and Harry was deeply disappointed with her to boot. The last thing he needed was for her to upset Severus as well.

"Stop it!" the shrill tone had him wincing as he managed the last few steps to her side, just in time to see Harry startle badly and whirl to face the door. The move put him off balance but Severus was there in a flash, steadying the teen with a strong hand and then not letting go when Harry leaned into the touch, as he was still wont to do.

"Headmaster, he was throwing things at Harry!" Hermione reported, tears in her eyes, her voice no less strident. Luckily she missed Severus rolling his eyes in an unusually childish display of impatience. She couldn't have missed Harry's disappointed sigh, which made her turn to look at the occupants of the room with disbelieving eyes.

"Its alright, Hermione, we were only practicing," Harry spoke up before anyone else could, and Albus perceived that the support he was gleaning from Severus was as much for show as for stability; Harry was trying to subtly reinforce that he was not afraid of Severus by visibly accepting his help when vulnerable. His young charge was becoming more Slytherin, something Albus wasn't sure he liked. Although Harry needed to build up the sly and subtle defences that many children learnt automatically, he didn't want to go too far… the last thing they needed was a pale copy of Draco Malfoy.

"Practicing!" Hermione fairly shrieked, "What on earth could you have been practicing? How to torture blind people by throwing things at them?"

"Miss Granger," Severus' voice snapped out with some of its old vitriol, "Control yourself. You are not in full command of the facts and hysterical accusations will not advance your cause."

She quietened, and Albus was happy to see that Harry had not tensed in response to his teacher's harsh tone. He was still leaning trustingly against Severus, unconcerned by the acrimony directed over his head at his friend. Albus was in the very unusual position of being lost for words, unsure of what to say to relieve Miss Granger of her prejudice. Severus all too obviously had a veritable arsenal of words ready to cut her down to size, but that would not help in this situation; she was clearly in no mood to listen to the Potions Master. However, Harry was used to dealing with his friend and stepped into the breach for them both, in a most astonishing way.

"Hermione," Harry's voice was gentle, "Who do you think this is?"

"It's Snape Harry," Hermione's voice lowered in volume to match the dark haired teen, but her tone lost none of its anger and hatred, "How can you stand there wrapped in his arm and not feel revolted? This man is a Death Eater! A slave of the Wizard that blinded you!"

"Ahh, I see the problem," Harry murmured, "You don't have all the facts."

His tone was a peculiar one, and even Severus looked a little surprised to hear it, twisting his head on his long neck to peer at the teen sheltering against him. Albus certainly didn't have the words to describe it as Miss Granger stiffened beside him. Harry straightened away from the Potions Master and Albus watched as the teen took a few steps towards his friend. He wondered how much of their friendship would remain after this little outburst and hoped that nothing irreversible was said by either one of them.

"This is Severus," Harry's hand waved in vague direction, "Or it was until you burst in and started screaming at him. Snape is a part of him, the most public part if you like, but the man who rescued me from the Death Eaters, cared for me all this time and taught me to cope with being a blind cripple not worth much is Severus."

"Harry!" Albus couldn't keep the sharp admonishment back, though he suspected they were at last seeing the long overdue reaction to his blindness. Hermione gasped and even Severus looked disturbed by the words; both adults moved slowly towards their charge.

"You are _not_ an unworthy cripple, Potter," Severus droned firmly, "Do not sell yourself short."

They couldn't refute the blindness, much to Albus' severe disappointment. He had pinned so much of his hopes on Poppy, and that let down still rankled. He knew it wasn't the Healers fault, but she had set a kind of precedent by being able to deal with so many past injuries, and all types of unusual spell damage.

"Severus is a man of interesting morals, wide knowledge and firm conviction," Harry continued as if he hadn't heard them, as if they were discussing something else entirely. His words were a precious vindication of the man that Albus saw behind the public persona, and even as his protégé drew closer to their charge, Albus could see the effect those words were having. Subtle hunger hid behind those black eyes, hunger to be seen and recognised for his true self, and Albus very much hoped that Harry got this right for all of their sakes, "He and I have come to an understanding over the last months. He's given up so much for me, Hermione, taught me so much that I need to know. How could I not trust him?"

"Given up grovelling at Voldemort's feet," Hermione muttered stubbornly and Harry frowned, anger stealing over his face for the first time. The display of temper was welcome - it was better for the boy than self-pity, and Harry would not allow himself to drown in the sentiment.

"He's not a Death Eater, he has no Mark. I've removed it," Harry told her firmly.

"Then he hasn't given anything up for you. If anything he owes you! With no Mark he'd be a target of his Master's servants and he's simply hiding in the same place you are. Harry, _how can you have forgotten all the things he's said and done to you at school_?"

"Like saving me from falling off my broom in first year?" Harry snapped, and Albus moved as if to intervene. Severus made a slight gesture that held him in check, obviously wanting to hear this from Harry. Albus reluctantly subsided, deciding that no matter how Severus gestured the next time he would act.

"Like trying to protect me from an Azkaban escapee and an un-potioned werewolf, even though he was working with faulty information? He got between Moony and us on the night of a full moon after we attacked him with our wands! Like trying to discover who was manipulating the Tri-wizard Tournament? Like giving up his job here? He loves being Head of Slytherin, and he still worries over them! He's confined himself to a cottage in the woods for me when he could be here, guiding his House among his peers! He's taught me how to cope, how to live again, and he's helped me face so much, Hermione! I owe him so much, I can never repay him!"

Severus moved sharply, catching hold of the sobbing teen and glaring over his head at Miss Granger. Albus brushed past her on the way to them, paying her no attention at all, though he could clearly hear her own hitching breaths.

"Out Gryffindor!" Severus snapped, his tone so cold it chilled the very air. Hermione whirled and left, but Albus was too concerned with soothing Harry. It took some time.

"Ok that was _definitely_ Snape," Harry's voice sounded muffled between them, and Severus barked once in unaccustomed laughter. It was almost as sad as Harry's sobs had been a moment before.

0o0o0o0


	31. nasty headache

…_nasty headache…_

He should never have let Harry out of his sight. Ron had been so devastated when the school Matron had been unable to figure out what was wrong with Harry, and it had shown clearly on his face. Albus had been equally shaken, but before their silence could become oppressive Snape had announced that Harry needed to complete today's duelling drills and swept his friend off.

Apparently Hermione had caught them duelling and Harry had defended Severus to her, but whatever she had said had really upset his newly beloved, because when Ron found them just before dinner it was plain to him that Harry had been crying. The green eyed teen didn't like to cry in front of anyone, not even in front of his two best friends and the fact that he'd done so in front of Albus showed how upset he truly was.

It was also apparent to all three of them that Harry had developed a nasty headache. After some discussion, which Harry didn't take part in at all, it was decided that Ron would take them up to the boy's dorm and Dobby would bring a tray of dinner up to them. Ron hoped that Hermione would stay out of everyone's way for the next few days. He certainly would have absolutely no compunctions at all about hexing her for hurting Harry, and Severus would have Gryffindor in negative points if her tie were so much as crooked in front of him for the rest of the holidays.

It had taken a bit of persuasion, but Ron got them both into pyjamas and then watched as Harry picked at the dinner tray unenthusiastically and in miserable silence. Once Harry had stopped eating Dobby took the tray away and Ron tugged the dark haired teen to lie on his bed, wrapping him up closely. Harry had huddled in his arms miserably, seeking Ron's warmth and scent and shivering a little. Ron had pulled him even closer and rubbed his back gently, muttering gentle words into messy hair. Dobby had darkened the room when he left, not that Harry would notice it, and Ron spent a few hours staring into the dark, his mind whirling with possibilities.

Something had to be done about Hermione, and Ron was considering pushing to go back to the summer house with Severus and Harry. He knew that Harry was trying to keep up with his studies anyway and surely between the two of them they could manage to complete the course work to a decent standard. It wasn't that he didn't trust Severus with Harry, it was that Harry was so isolated out there. Ron hated that they were apart.

Harry stilled in his arms eventually, and for a while Ron thought about how he could deal with Hermione and her blind prejudices. It was so unlike her to be so stubborn about something when she'd been told repeatedly that there was more to the situation than met the eye. He wondered if it would have been better to let her see more of Harry over the summer, which would have had the added benefit of letting her meet Severus as well.

"Hindsight is perfect," Ron mumbled into Harry's hair but there was no response. Thinking he was asleep, Ron curtailed any further comments and let his eyes drift closed for a while.

Their quiet reverie was interrupted when the door to the dorm opened and black shadows entered the room. Ron blinked sleep from his eyes as Severus approached his side of the bed and leaned down to check on Harry quietly.

"No nightmares?" Severus murmured and Ron shook his head. His arm was going a bit numb under Harry's neck and he shifted carefully, trying not to wake him as he put Harry onto his back and pulled away a bit.

His skin crawled uneasily when Harry moved limply, the slight jostling not even waking him a little, let alone disturbing him. Harry had always been a light sleeper, in fact he had the worst sleeping habits of anyone in the dorm. The fact that he hadn't woken or even reacted to the movement was worrying. Severus leaned over them and Ron eeled quickly out of the way, the bed jostling and still leaving Harry undisturbed. Severus lit his wand and together they bent over the teen in the bed.

Harry was pale and as they watched, sweat gathered on his brow. He'd been warm to the touch when Ron held him, but then they'd been in bed together and the blankets at Hogwarts were thick so that was not unexpected. The tower was usually a little cold because the windows didn't seal properly, hence the compensation in blankets.

"Harry?" Ron called, squeezing a lax hand. Harry didn't respond and Severus ran one of the few spells that Harry's Magic allowed over the teen. Ron resisted the urge to grab his friend by the shoulders and shake him, hard.

"He's deeply unconscious," Severus sounded as grim as he looked and Ron bit his lip in fear. The Potions Master moved quickly, wrapping Harry in a blanket and lifting him with a grunt. Ron shoved his feet into slippers and ran to hold the door open for his teacher and best mate. They headed for the hospital wing at almost a run.

Ron felt a terrible sense of foreboding even as he shouted for the Matron; whatever was wrong with Harry was about to come to an end… one way or another.

0o0o0o0

Even if he hadn't been living in constant darkness for months Harry wouldn't have had to open his eyes to identify his location. The Hospital wing had its own unique smell of potions and crisp linen. It echoed in a way that the classrooms and dorms didn't, and the beds were a lot softer than the ones in the dorm. That didn't necessarily make them more comfortable.

Harry was lying on his back, and once he'd figure out where he was, he turned his attention to figuring out why he was there. His head didn't hurt, which made a nice change. Neither did anything else, which meant he hadn't had some sort of accident. He wasn't too warm or too cold, but just right in true Goldilocks fashion. He actually felt well for the first time in a very long time, comfortable in his body and with no sense of strain or effort. That said, he wasn't feeling very energetic, as though he had just completed a full school day and had Quidditch training on top of it.

Someone was holding his hands, one resting on his chest and one on his stomach, and there was a hand latched onto an ankle as well. That was probably Ron, he couldn't imagine that Severus or Albus would be so undignified as to hang onto a foot. It only took a moment of thought for him to discern that Albus was holding his left hand and Severus his right.

The last thing that he could remember was the aftermath of his argument with Hermione. He'd gone up to the tower with Ron and they'd cuddled together for a while. Harry could vaguely remember slipping, or feeling like he was slipping, and then he'd woken here. Maybe he'd fallen out of bed. That would at least explain why they were holding onto him so tightly.

Harry opened his eyes with a sigh and stared blankly up at the blurry and distant ceiling. The beds in Gryffindor weren't that high, and he and his dorm mates had fallen out or off them often enough for him to know that injury beyond a few bruises was unlikely. Turning his head to the left he made out the brightly coloured blur of the Headmaster, a seasonal mix of red and green, topped off with the white of his hair and beard. Harry squinted a bit, trying to get his face into focus but it didn't work and he turned to squint at Severus instead, a black blur who was sitting a little closer and actually leaning forward. There was no chance he'd see…

"Harry?" there was hope in Albus' voice and Harry gasped, his hands tightening around theirs in shock as he realised what he was doing.

"What do you need?" Severus asked, a fierce look on his slightly indistinct face. Ron was squeezing his ankle tightly but Harry didn't care, a grin that was probably very silly spreading all over his face.

"I think I need my glasses," he beamed, and Ron made a little sound at the end of the bed that was suspiciously like a sob. Albus let go of Harry's hand and he turned to squint at the brightly coloured blur beside him. A moment later everything came into sharp focus as Albus carefully placed his glasses on his face, leaning back with such a hopeful look in his eyes that Harry wanted to shout.

"You've been carrying them with you?" he asked instead, blinking to get used to the change from darkness to properly focused light.

"I have dear boy," Albus confirmed and Harry smiled, twisting up on an elbow to look at Ron, who was on the verge of tears. Ron looked very tired and his eyes were more than a little red.

"Are you ok?" he asked his friend and Ron choked in surprise.

"Me?? You're the one who slipped into a coma without me noticing and then ran a really high fever! How do _you_ feel?" the redhead blurted, guilt colouring his tone and shining in his eyes. This wouldn't do at all and Harry sat up as Severus went to fetch the matron. The movement made him feel a little dizzy, as he'd gotten out of practice at seeing things move as he did, but he knew that would pass.

"I'm fine," he told his friend, smiling gently, "I feel a little tired, but other than that… what day is it?"

"It is the day before Christmas Eve," Albus replied when Ron snorted and rolled his eyes, "And what a marvellous early Christmas present you've given us Harry."

"Me? What did I do?" Harry was confused, but Albus only chuckled as the Matron swept up to his bed and hit him with a series of diagnostic spells. Harry let them tingle all over him and looked at her hopefully when the sensation stopped.

"Well!" she sounded surprised, "Your Magic has stopped blocking me!"

"How is he?" Ron's voice was urgent and the tension in the redheads face made Harry want to gather him up in the biggest hug he could.

"Completely fine. A good nights sleep and I can release him, provided nothing else goes wrong," Pomfrey sounded a little put out, "The skeletal damage is completely healed, and his Magic is back to its normal inactive state."

"Inactive?" Harry asked, and rubbed the back of his head. The small dent that had been in the back of his skull was gone, so that explained the first remark at least.

"Whenever I scanned you Mr Potter, your Magic was in an active state. At first I thought that was because you were blocking the deeper spells, but now I'm beginning to think it was because it was still trying to heal the damage you'd sustained this summer. Obviously you have now recovered to your normal self, so your Magic has returned to normal. With everyone, when we are not actually casting a spell, our Magic is dormant, inactive. You're a little tired but that is to be expected given the amount of energy that must have gone into healing your final injuries. We'll keep you in tonight and if you have a good night you can go tomorrow," she tucked her wand away and then beamed at him, patted his shoulder in an approving fashion and bustled off.

"I've been asleep for an entire day," Harry realised, and his stomach growled at the thought. Severus snorted and sat on the bed behind him, tugging the back of his pyjamas once to topple him back into the strong body behind and bringing his arms around Harry. Before the green eyed teen had a chance to really process this, skilled hands were deftly uncorking a vial and tipping his head back.

"Nutrient potion," Severus murmured, the tone and the position enough to trigger Harry's memory of the time he'd been too weak to sit up alone, let alone care for himself. He opened his mouth obediently and swallowed the foul concoction down, grimacing at the taste. A glass of water was held to his lips and he drank gratefully, washing away the horrid flavour. He still maintained he'd get a better taste sucking on a mouse.

"Perhaps now your Magic will allow it to work as it should," Severus complained in his ear and Harry grinned faintly at the unspoken relief he could hear. When he tipped his head further back to look however, Severus' face was blank, at unsettling odds with his tone. For a moment Harry was uncertain how to take the comment. He heard the unspoken emotions, but saw the almost exact opposite. It was very unsettling.

"I am not a back rest Mr Potter," the Potions Master droned, his black eyes unusually intent. In that moment Harry realised that he would have to teach himself to listen to the tone and ignore the expression on the mans face, and made a silent vow to do so, determined not to lose the ease they had built together.

"No? You're very comfortable," he grinned impudently, and Severus scowled fiercely. The body he was leaning against didn't tense to push him away though, and the Potion Masters hands settled at his waist lightly. Harry grinned, resisted the impulse to wriggle back in a show of getting comfortable and turned to look at Ron again, which was muffling a smile unsuccessfully. Ron had learned to ignore expression in favour of tone of voice, and Harry made a mental note to take his cues from the redhead for a while at least. He'd learned a lot in the last months about reading his environment with all of his other senses and to go back to relying on one made no sense at all.

Albus chuckled and retook Harry's hand. He blinked at his Headmaster, hearing relief, seeing happiness and smiled back, glad that this particular trip to the Hospital Wing had turned out so well. He was feeling tired though, and hoped that no one would mind if he took a little nap.

0o0o0o0


	32. orders of magic

…_orders of Magic…_

"Dad!" the stereo shout caught my attention as I crossed the Great Hall and I looked up in time to see Ron and Harry dash along the landing and down the stairs. Beside me, Molly caught her breath at the sight and I knew without looking that she would be beaming in pride at our two young men. Ron was positively glowing with joy, and Harry …

Harry looked much as he always did, messy hair, round glasses and quick energy that had defeated the usual teenage clumsiness. His eyes, once so blank and dull, sparkled with the life and passion that I had become accustomed to seeing. The fact that he was actually looking at me, instead of through me was heart-warming, and a fine Christmas gift.

"When did this happen?" Molly shrieked as she caught Harry at the bottom of the stairs, wrapping him in her maternal arms tightly, "Why didn't you owl us?"

We weren't supposed to be here until New Years Eve, in fact there were children at home waiting for our return. Albus had sent a message with Fawkes last night, saying that Ron and Harry would benefit from a breakfast visit. I knew that Harry had been coming to the school to be treated by Madam Pomfrey as well as to visit our Ronnie, and thought that they had been given bad news and needed parental cheering; or on the other hand perhaps they'd gotten into trouble through the usual hi-jinx. As I folded a jubilant Ron into a hug I reflected that even after raising the twins my children still had the ability to surprise me.

"It only just happened," Harry's voice was muffled in Molly's shoulder, "Only last night."

Molly beamed and let go, bussing Harry's forehead and turning to prise Ron away from me. Of the two of us she is known for the all enveloping hugs. My reputation is less obvious; once I have my children in my arms I am very reluctant to let go. Harry's expression was a little uncertain as he turned to me, and I made it a point of wrapping him up most thoroughly, kissing messy dark hair and squeezing gently. Harry burrowed himself against me, just as he had in Albus' summer house and I took the time to cherish this contact. He was still far too thin and felt terribly fragile in my arms, but his recovery was now almost complete and I had no doubt that Severus would continue to foist a thousand and one potions down his throat in an spirited effort to get him back to a healthy weight.

"Happy Christmas Dad," Harry mumbled into my neck and I squeezed him again in an approving manner. As an early Christmas present, his health was just what I'd wanted.

"And you son," I whispered, "Oh Harry, I'm so pleased for you!"

"Arthur, Molly, Merry Christmas!" Albus called from the stairs and I looked up. The change in the Headmaster was immediately apparent. Before I had seen worry and sadness weighting him down; with Harry's recovery it seemed that life once again held joy for our venerable leader.

"And you, Albus," Molly had let go of our youngest son and was straightening his robes, casting a warning look in my direction. I tightened my grip possessively. Harry had been given far too few hugs from his dad and as he had agreed to let me act as a surrogate I was going to make the most of every opportunity. Harry didn't seem to mind that I was almost squashing him in my grip, in fact he knotted his hands in my robes in defiance of anyone wishing to separate us.

"I thought perhaps breakfast in my quarters," Albus said from the stairs, looking highly amused. Before I could evaluate a way to keep hold of Harry while climbing to the Headmasters Tower young Flash appeared, grabbed Harry by the scruff of the neck and tugged. A burst of heat and we were standing before Albus' desk.

"Thanks Flash," Harry muttered and leaned his head back to look at me. The round glasses and vibrant gaze only emphasised the mockery this action had been only a few weeks ago. Gone was the empty and inaccurate stare, replaced with the warmth and love that was our Harry.

"How did this happen?" I asked quietly, "Did Poppy… should I have insisted you go to St Mungo's?"

"No," Harry seemed to understand the words I had not said. It had been debated that a properly trained Healer would have been able to recover Harry's sight, though Poppy had not been able to upon her visits to him. We had let Albus guide us in this matter, and he had been against subjecting Harry to contact with crowds of strangers.

"Madame Pomfrey said that I did it myself. That my Magic was continuing to actively heal me even after the majority of my injuries were gone. I just… went to sleep in Ron's arms a couple of days ago and when I woke up I was better. My Magic isn't active any more, so Pomfrey thinks that the last of the damage from summer is healed now."

"That's why you were having headaches? Because you were trying to heal yourself but also using your Magic for other things?" I reasoned out loud, not really registering Harry's confirming nod, "And you would not have been conscious of this so you couldn't tell us what was wrong either. I understand."

I looked back down at the boy in my arms and squeezed him again before reluctantly beginning the process of letting go. For Harry to be able to do this instinctively meant that he was quite powerful. We had of course some idea of his power rating thanks to the disastrous interview by Fudge and the Aurors, but as Harry's Magic had still been focussed internally that reading was no longer a reliable measure. Harry would need some serious and specialised training if he was going to master the amount of power available to him, and I was more than grateful that his adopted Grandfather was the Headmaster of Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry.

In the meantime, there was a Christmas Eve breakfast to be had with my sons, and their company to be cherished. It would be much easier to return to the Burrow knowing that Harry was almost exactly back to his usual self.

"Wait a minute… you were sleeping in Ron's arms? Does this mean…?" a snippet of something had suddenly occurred to me and I grasped thin shoulders carefully. We had spent a lot of time discussing Harry's reactions to certain events and exploring his self-knowledge. I had hoped that he would one day feel comfortable enough to pursue his infatuation with our Ronnie, though it was not unusual for them to be close to each other after the events of this summer. Ron had once mentioned that Harry slept better when someone was close by.

Harry blushed and then beamed. That piece of news was almost as good as the first one and I pulled him back in for another hug. Molly would just have to pry the boy from my arms when she got here. Harry didn't seem to mind.

0o0o0o0

Ron's mum had to pry Harry loose when they arrived at the Headmaster's office, though she was only partially successful. His dad managed to keep one arm around Harry and used it to sit him on the couch between the senior Weasley's. Harry shot him an abashed look but Ron was too busy grinning to be jealous. Severus claimed the only armchair as he swept in behind them all and Albus ushered Ron to join him on the other couch.

Breakfast appeared and Harry stirred himself to hand plates and generally be useful, which Ron supposed was a remnant of his training with the Dursley's. Harry the House Elf wasn't seen often in the Wizarding world, but Ron always felt a bit of a wrench when he appeared. It was a reminder of past abuses and although he wouldn't change anything about his lover, he often wished Harry had grown up in a better household.

It wasn't until they were finished that his dad set the Kneazle among the bow truckles. Ron was very happily basking in the knowledge that Harry was all better and here with him and he didn't want to think about what the future held. Arthur Weasley was not one to leave things to chance, seven children not withstanding.

"Will Harry be returning to school now?"

"We haven't discussed it," Albus said, though Harry lit up at the idea and shot a happy look at Ron. He knew that the green-eyed teen had hated their separation as much as he had, despite the unexpected benefit of getting to know Severus. Although neither teen had discussed the matter, they were both eager to be together on a more frequent basis.

"Harry's access to his Magic has increased beyond that of most students in this school. I am not sure that we could offer him the lessons he will need to best utilise and control the raw ability he now has," Albus continued, and Harry frowned.

"But I thought that my Magic was only reacting to my injuries. I've got a bit more because I was using it all the time to get better. Now that I'm not using it all the time it will go back to normal, right?" his confusion was evident, and Ron had a sudden flash of insight. Harry was pretty much a Muggle-born when it came to understanding about the nature of Magic, though it had to be said that the knowledge that Purebloods gained from being raised in Society didn't always offer them an advantage.

"Your Magic is not a muscle, Harry, to be enlarged or atrophied through use," Severus murmured from behind his cup of tea.

"I don't understand," Harry sighed, "I mean, I know I had a high reading on that test that Shaklebolt had to run on me, but that was because my Magic was working at the time. If we ran the test again right now, the numbers would be lower, wouldn't they?"

"They would probably be higher," Severus stated the fact baldly, knowing as well as anyone that Harry hated to have the truth withheld or concealed from him, "You were tested when your Magic was… distracted by other matters, for lack of a better description. With your Magic now able to concentrate wholly on the test a higher reading would be obtained."

Harry looked absolutely mortified by all of this, but Ron thought he knew where the problem lay. His love had never been told how Magic worked within a Witch or Wizard, and that theory wasn't discussed in class because you didn't need to know it to cast an effective spell. Arthur pulled Harry close and the green-eyed teen hid his face in his adopted fathers shoulder for a moment. As a Pureblood, Ron had of course had lessons from his parents about the nature of Magic - it was time he shared that with his best friend.

"Harry," Ron waited until his love was peering out at him, "We're all born with a certain amount of Magic in us. At the moment of our birth we have all got a certain potential. We never gain or lose that potential, but because you wouldn't want to deal with a two year old who has access to his or her full amount of Magic, nature has created a sort of barrier between the potential we have and our every day life. We don't start breaking that barrier down until we start regularly and deliberately casting Magic through a wand, which is why our classes get harder every year. We have more access to our Magic and that makes us capable of more powerful casting. By the time we get to our seventh year we've usually broken the full barrier away. Some people do it a bit more quickly than that, maybe because they've been in a situation where they've needed more Magic to survive some disaster or battle, and some people do it more slowly and don't finish breaking the barrier until they've left school completely. No matter what we'd like, we can't increase our amount of Magic."

"So because of… the summer, my barriers around my Magic are all gone?" Harry asked, "And that's why I seem to be so much more powerful?"

"Partially," Albus patted Ron's knee in approval and his mum beamed proudly at him as Harry emerged from Arthur's shoulder on the strength of Ron's reassurance.

"There are … orders for lack of a better word, of Magical strength," the Headmaster sighed, "There are the usual orders that any Witch or Wizard attain. Then there is the order of a Sorcerer or Sorceress. This is not as rare as you would think, Severus and I are both considered to be Sorcerers, as is Tom Riddle. Lady Ravenclaw was a Sorceress, as are Professor McGonagall and Professor Sinsistra. Those that are ranked as the highest order are known as Mage, both Merlin and Morgana were Mages, and so was Lady Hufflepuff."

"So I'm a Sorcerer?" Harry asked, hope colouring his voice, "Like you and Severus?"

"No, Harry," Severus said it with unwonted gentleness, earning Ron's undying gratitude, "You are a Mage."

"But…" Harry's face fell and Ron approved when his dad pulled Harry closer, rubbing a thin shoulder and gentling the teen, "But that's too much power for someone like me. I'm just Harry."

"We will teach you, Harry," Albus got right to the heart of the matter, and Ron decided that now was not the time to point out that Harry had always been expected to do great things, "You won't be left to learn alone. Perhaps we will be able to work out a way to have classes for you here at the school, as well as with Severus and myself privately."

"He can come back to school?" Ron beamed and Harry shot him a shy look, one that was tinged with relief. Ron knew that part of Harry's concern about being labelled a Mage was the reaction that Ron would have to that. The redhead knew he could be a jealous git at times, but what Harry didn't realise was that children who were born to Magic in an old family like Ron's were also taught several key lessons about their societies expectations of them.

'With great power comes great responsibility' - Ron couldn't remember the name of the Wizard who'd first said that, but it was true. Part of the reason people were so afraid of You Know Who was that he was flaunting his responsibility to the Wizarding world. Highly powerful people were expected to take on a guiding role in the community, once they'd grown old enough. That Voldemort was not only refusing to teach the young or work with the Ministry, but was actively trying to overthrow the Ministry and the premier school of Britain was a serious breach of Wizarding cultural belief and expectations. Ron couldn't imagine throwing away his responsibility to others like that.

"Partially," Albus forestalled them all, and Harry frowned a little in disappointment, an expression Ron was sure was on his face too.

"We will have to determine what Harry's needs are and how we can best address them. This will take a while," Albus continued, "And I will be sure to include you all in the consultation process. For now I think we should concentrate on the matter at hand… Christmas!"

Ron could get behind that notion. Christmas was one of his favourite times of year. He was looking forward to sharing it with Harry once more.

0o0o0o0


	33. travesty of conversation

…_travesty of conversation…_

Severus swept along the corridor, mulling over the events of the day. Tonight was Christmas Eve, and tomorrow Christmas, which meant he was going to have to put up with the usual overly sentimental tripe that the holiday usually called forth. Give him New Year any day - explosives and alcohol, now there was a mix. In his opinion the Board of Governors had no call to ban him from organising the end of year celebrations - it had only been a very small hole in the ceiling of the Great Hall, and they'd mended it with no trouble at all.

The Weasley elders had been persuaded to return to their brood, and Albus had then settled down to schedule Harry's new timetable. He was of course teaching Harry Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts, and the boy would be living with him for four days out of the seven. Harry would spend three days at Hogwarts, covering Transfiguration, Charms, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, the last two subjects to be taught to him by Albus personally. He would stay in the dorms with Ron during that time, and attend classes with his peers, though Minerva and Filius could probably be persuaded to provide him with some extra tutelage once the day's regular lessons were finished.

Once all that had been agreed upon the teens had decided to go and explore the castle. Dinner was now being served in the Great Hall, and neither Harry nor Ron had shown up for lunch, something that displeased Severus in particular. The child was too thin as it was, there was no call to be skipping meals in this fashion, and he was on his way to inform Harry of that, intending to drag him along to dinner and ensure he ate a decent meal. It had not taken much thought to realise that the teens were either in their dorm or wandering the halls. Harry had missed the school and Severus was not unfamiliar with the fascination of wandering the halls, discovering the castles many oddities and secrets.

"… still it's an odd thing to add to a painting," Harry was murmuring quietly ahead of him and Severus smirked; he knew exactly what they were looking at. Ron snorted in agreement as Severus approached the corner and the Potions Master slowed, wanting to hear the redhead's opinion on the subject before subjecting them to his own rather unique take on what the artist had been thinking when he'd added that little detail to her work. And yes, his personal pronouns were correct.

"Although…" the redhead began to reply and then broke off at the sound of a foot scuffing the floor, "Hello Draco."

Much to Severus' surprise, his first instinct was to leap around the corner, wand out and impose himself between Harry and Malfoy. He held himself in check, not wanting to drive the blonde to the side of the Dark by implying that he was not to be trusted alone with his father's victim. After all, he knew all too well the reasoning that could lead the boy astray: something along the lines of 'they think it anyway, why not make it true'?

"Hello Weasley… Potter," Draco's voice was subdued and hesitant. The term had not been an easy one for the blonde, and Severus had been meaning to take a few moments to speak to him. After all, he had escaped the Dark Lord, and had personally witnessed what had happened to the boy's father. Draco would doubtless have questions for him.

"Hello Draco," Harry's voice wasn't enthusiastic, though the tone was properly neutral. Malfoy was not his father, but neither was he ever going to be a true friend of the Gryffindor's.

"You're wearing glasses," it was a statement of the obvious, and not up to the usual standard of control and polite inanity that one would expect from a child reared as Malfoy had been. Draco was rattled, and not hiding it very well.

"I've managed to overcome the last of my injuries," Harry replied calmly, the words carefully chosen. Severus was glad that no mention of Malfoy senior was made in that particular sentence, any allusion to the man who had been responsible for Harry's capture and torture would be fraught with emotion and acrimony. Once an argument started Weasley would not be able to hold back either, and two against one was stiff odds, especially when one of those was an untrained Mage.

"Good," that cold distant tone was not encouraging, and Severus realised his wand was in his hand. He forced himself to put it away before stepping around the corner. It would not do to give the impression that he did not trust someone to control themselves. Who was not to be trusted was a matter he had yet to determine.

Ron had a hand wrapped in Harry's and the redhead was clearly doing his best not to interfere, glare or in anyway impose himself in the stilted travesty of conversation that was taking place. Harry was holding himself stiffly, though his face was neutral enough and he had his free hand in his pocket. From the way the material bunched it was obvious that his hand was clenched into a fist, which somewhat ruined the casual effect.

"You missed lunch," Severus didn't waste time with greetings or inanities, none of the boys in the corridor would expect them of him anyway, "That is not acceptable."

"We went to the kitchens," Harry turned to him, something close to relief on his face, "Dobby fed us."

"I wouldn't let him skip a meal, Severus," Ron spoke up, both teens ignoring Draco in favour of him, "I made sure he had lunch. We didn't want to deal with the rest of the people in the Great Hall after this morning."

Severus eyed them both closely and then made a show of nodding reluctantly. The moment was ruined when Ink crawled out of his pocket, tumbling down his robes and rolling across the floor to fetch up at Harry's feet. Draco gaped in a very stupid fashion and he thought that Ron smirked at him for a second, though the redheads face was properly neutral moments later. Harry looked unexpectedly fascinated, an expression that was explained with his next comment.

"So that's what she looks like," Harry murmured, staring down as if he'd never met the wretched thing before, "I did wonder."

"Dinner," Severus turned and gestured for all three of them to precede him down the hall, ignoring the piteous mews for him to pick Ink up. There was no sign that the potion she had been dosed with was abating, and Severus was rapidly coming to the point where he would consider trying an antidote on her, something that often produced fatal results. She would come to no harm in the castle, and Severus' long stride easily outdistanced her. If he were lucky she'd take her time finding her way back to his side. If he were really lucky Mrs Norris would find her first.

0o0o0o0

When Harry and Ron appeared at dinner Hermione wasn't sure if she was happy or miserable. Naturally she was overjoyed that Harry had recovered his sight, something that the Headmaster had announced at lunch, but at the same time he was clearly not speaking to her. He sat between Ron and Professor McGonagall and let them bring him up to speed on the House Quidditch Cup, which Gryffindor was not confident about. There had been trouble replacing the graduated members of the team, and although Ginny was a good Seeker she wasn't in Harry's class.

Her friends, although she wasn't sure if she could continue to refer to them that way after the last argument where she'd reduced Harry to tears, had come in with Snape, who had made a point of supervising them sitting down and then glared at Harry until he'd dished up his meal. Harry didn't seem concerned by the ferocious look, though he did pull a face when he was handed a small vial of potion.

"Essence of dead mouse," Hermione wasn't sure she'd heard the words correctly, because Professor McGonagall had suddenly had a coughing fit. Harry grimaced after swallowing the potion and pocketed the vial casually, as if this was part of a normal routine for him. For all she knew it was.

Snape was obviously continuing to provide Harry with medicines and potions, and supervising his diet, something that surprised Hermione. She knew the man couldn't afford to let Harry get ill when they were alone together, but here in the castle where there were plenty more likely candidates to watch over Harry there was no need for Snape to continue in that role. The observation was prodding her conscience, and she thought back over what Harry and Ron had both been trying to tell her.

Snape was not the sort of man to publicly fuss over someone, especially someone he didn't like. In the past he'd made no bones about not liking Harry, Ron or Hermione. Then Harry had been taken by the Death Eaters, and apparently removed the Dark Mark from Snape's arm. Albus Dumbledore himself had entrusted Harry to Snape's care, which meant the Potion Master would discharge that care efficiently and thoroughly. However, with a number of other people available to take on some of the responsibility of caring for Harry, Hermione would have expected Snape to back off, to take the opportunity to spend time away from someone he didn't like. Snape clearly wasn't backing off, and Harry seemed to expect that Snape would be there, to be spoken to, to give him essence of dead mouse, and to throw things at him.

Perhaps Snape had really changed. True it was a rather radical personality change, but maybe the removal of the Dark Mark had done more than free him from the servitude he had so stupidly entered into. After all, she knew that Voldemort could influence Harry through his scar, so it followed that the Dark Lord could influence his followers through their brand. Such a malevolent influence would surely alter a person's demeanour, and with the Darkness gone, Snape could have reverted to the person that he was before he'd taken the Mark.

From what she'd seen he still wasn't a very pleasant person to be around, but Harry seemed to understand him, and Ron had been telling her for a long time how different Snape was that summer.

Perhaps she'd been wrong.

"I can smell the burning, Granger, ease up on the deep thoughts, would you?" Malfoy drawled from across the table, his old insulting tone that the school hadn't heard in a very long time, and Hermione frowned back at him. Maybe she'd been wrong about Ron's attempts to talk to Malfoy too. The Slytherin had been rather isolated from his House of late and had stopped taunting people about their bloodlines and wealth.

"Shut up Malfoy," the automatic response slipped past her lips without conscious effort and she almost regretted it when the blonde frowned and looked back down at his plate.

0o0o0o0


	34. specific wants

…_specific wants…_

The bed was agreeably warm, and Ron was feeling warmly agreeable. Harry had wrapped the redhead up in his arms last night and they'd exchanged a few kisses before going to sleep. The knowledge that his best friend would soon be rejoining him in class was the second best Christmas present that Ron could think of. The best being that Harry loved him and he'd been able to honestly say to Harry the same in return.

All of that aside there was a decidedly physical element to the warmth that Ron was feeling at that particular moment, a sort of delicious heat that was radiating from a central point. The redhead took a breath, reluctantly beginning the process of opening his eyes and starting the day. If he was dreaming this warmth he wasn't too sure that he wanted to wake up, despite the fact that he was sure to be waking up to Harry and Christmas.

He sighed and felt a hand stroke his side sympathetically. Not even the allure of presents could overcome his present level of comfort and… pleasure?

Ron blushed, realising that he was hard, that the warmth he felt was radiating from his groin more than his bed mate. He and Harry had declared themselves, and kissed and cuddled, but they hadn't discussed actual sex. Ron wanted actual sex, in fact he wanted a lot of actual sex with another actual person, with a very specific person in fact, the one specifically in his arms at this specific moment. He didn't want to bollocks things up by pushing for actual sex with this specific person at this specific moment because he wasn't sure what Harry's specific wants were.

"You're thinking too much," Harry mumbled from his hiding place in Ron's armpit, "I can feel the vibrations."

Ron snorted and opened his eyes as Harry emerged, his face a little flushed. The green eyed teen pushed Ron onto his back and boldly rolled himself on top of the redhead, making Ron gasp as a sensitive part of him gained a bit of welcome friction. Harry's face flushed even more and his eyes went a bit glassy with pleasure.

"Mmm," he mumbled and took Ron's mouth in a firm kiss. They were getting better at this, finding just the right pressure and friction to make their lips tingle, then slowly parting lips and touching tongues in little dabs. Harry tasted spicy and familiar and Ron sucked the other teens tongue into his mouth with a soft groan, bringing his hands up and shoving them under the striped pyjama top and running curious fingers over heated skin. Harry arched into the touch, shifting slowly against Ron and breathing hard.

Ron gasped and broke the kiss for a moment when Harry's hands returned the favour, playing over his chest. Harry took advantage of his surprise and nibbled thoughtfully on his ear for a moment, murmuring in wordless pleasure. Ron was feeling hot again, and definitely getting a very clear idea about the specific wants they both harboured. Harry was solid against him, even though he was still very thin, and something intriguing was poking Ron in the belly as they moved slowly against each other.

The friction was driving Ron mad, and he wanted more of it. He slid his hands down Harry's back and then daringly slipped his fingers under Harry's waistband. Harry shivered and put his mouth back over Ron's licking at the redheads' lips in little dabs, like a cat. Ron couldn't restrain a moan when he realised that Harry wasn't wearing any underwear. His long fingers skimmed haltingly over Harry's bare arse, waiting for a sign that his touch was too much too fast. It never came, in fact his soon to be lover arched into the touch with a soft moan. Greatly daring, Ron took firm hold and pulled Harry's hips down against his own.

"Ron," the broken whisper hung in the air before Harry took his mouth again, this kiss urgent and needy. Ron felt slightly desperate, his skin buzzing all over, his head swimming from the kisses, heat pouring from his skin. He wanted more of Harry's skin on his, needed more of Harry's movement and weight, but couldn't bring himself to let go long enough to get more of either.

Thankfully they'd managed to turn mind reading into an art over the past few years because Harry let go of the nipple he'd been flicking with a thumbnail and pushed himself almost upright. Ron tightened his grip on Harry's arse in silent warning that the other teen wasn't getting any further away than that, and Harry snorted in amusement, skinning out of his pyjama top and then pulling Ron up as well, reaching back to yank Ron's hands off his arse and divesting the incoherent redhead of his own pyjama top as well. Before Ron could latch on again, Harry was skinning out of the pyjama bottoms, moving away to do so and then tugging impatiently at Ron's. To avoid injuring sensitive anatomy Ron pulled his own bottoms and pants off, tossing them aside and shivering in the cool dorm air. Harry shoved him flat and plastered himself to Ron's front again, dragging the blankets up to form a cocoon.

Both teens moaned at the renewed contact, and Ron lost himself in sensation, drugged on Harry's kisses and scent and touch.

This was the best Christmas present he'd ever had.

0o0o0o0

Severus squinted at the lump in the shadows and then sighed, contemplating a cold water charm. He wouldn't of course, the boy was still too fragile to tolerate a deluge of cold water in the middle of winter, but the temptation was great, and the mental image of the aftermath was faintly alluring.

"Don't make me pour cold water on you two," he warned instead, trusting that the menace in his voice would be cold water enough. Sure enough the couple broke apart, coming out of the shadows and smiling at him a little sheepishly. On the whole they had been very well behaved, even decorous in public, despite the fact that they were obviously ecstatically discovering the joys of teenage sex.

"Severus?" he ignored the question as a matter of course, gazing at them steadily.

"You will not be able to carry on like that during the term time," he cautioned and received identical nods of understanding and acceptance. Evidently they were making the most of the privacy offered by a mostly empty castle.

"Sorry Severus," Harry was blushing faintly in the starlight, "We thought we were alone."

"This is my favourite vantage point," Severus informed him, and Harry nodded. The Astronomy tower had the best view of the fireworks but was often so cold that no one else came to disturb him and his celebratory bottle of fine brandy. If Albus knew that he preferred to be here on New Years Eve his mentor had never given any indication of it, he had certainly never intruded on Severus' solitude.

"Do you want to be alone?" Ron offered, and for a moment he considered sending them on their way, his old habits of solitude rising to the fore in the castle where he had so often been surrounded by people and yet felt so alone.

"No," the answer slipped from his lips, almost as if another person had said it, "You may stay."

The teens came to stand beside him, still pressed close to each other but not so obviously. From the folds of his cloak Severus produced the bottle of brandy and the snifter he had charmed to stay warm. With a flick of his wand he conjured two more and poured a measure of the fine liquid into each, handing the teens theirs and then raising his own in silent toast.

He had toasted each New Year in silently for the last ten years from this very spot. How odd that the first time he had company it was the son of a man that he had loathed, and one of the 'Weasley horde'. The teens returned his silent toast and sipped cautiously at their snifters. Severus watched as they winced and then flushed as the heady alcohol slid into their systems. Given that reaction he decided not to burden their uneducated selves with the name of the drink they were imbibing or its age.

"It is an acquired taste," he murmured, not sure why he was telling them this, "My family had few traditions worth keeping, but this particular one is civilised enough to preserve. Brandy on New Years Eve, and a toast to the year ahead. My first glass was at the age of three, though it was only a very small measure."

Harry sipped again, with the face of a person who is trying to analyse the taste. Ron was swirling the snifter in eerie mimicry of Severus, an action that he performed almost unconsciously after so long. Properly warmed brandy was swirled to release the aroma, which was just as important as the liquid itself.

"Its… not bad," Harry said, his voice slightly hoarse. He too began to swirl the snifter, with an unconsciously elegant movement of his wrist. Ron sniffed his snifter a few times and then sipped again.

The three of them settled into silence, turning with unspoken accord to look towards Hogsmede and the expected fireworks. The silence was calm and light, almost as heady as the brandy. Usually the Potions Master experienced shared silence as a burden, something to be filled with words to stave off punishment, rancour or blame. Even with Albus there was some degree of expectation in the silence. It had been so long since he had stood with people who for the moment expected nothing of him, or were not afraid of him. Severus savoured the moment for as long as he could, knowing that such things were rare indeed.

The first burst of startling colour rose above the distant town and Severus leaned into the silence, the heady brandy and brilliant display of joy, ushering in the New Year in company for the first time in more than a decade.

0o0o0o0


	35. upcoming separation

… _upcoming separation…_

After the Christmas break, Hermione had watched their House welcome Harry back with cautious delight. Perhaps because she had seen him at his almost worst she had forgotten how alarming his current frail frame was. He no longer seemed fragile, and had a delicate touch of colour to his cheeks that actually made him even more handsome than ever, but the rest of their House reacted as if he was going to fall to the ground dead at any moment. Harry clearly didn't appreciate this, though he was very patient with them for the first hour or so.

It seemed his ordeal had not increased his patience, nor his desire to be fussed over and attended to. Harry was evidently as retiring as ever, which made the over-anxious response of their house even more of a burden. Ron helped as much as he could, mainly by sticking to Harry like glue. The House deferred to Ron's orders, clearly under the impression that the redhead was Harry's nurse. She got a few funny looks from one or two of them, who were apparently wondering why she wasn't being as adamant as Ron, but as the Headmaster had seen fit to suddenly saddle her with a lot of extra Prefect duties they reasoned that she couldn't give Harry the care and attention he obviously still needed.

Luckily Harry himself dispelled this notion by the last class of his first day back. His casting was stronger and quicker than any that Hermione had ever seen - though his control lacked a good deal of finesse and the results he got could be very unpredictable to say the least. Professor McGonagall informed him that he would need to start at the very beginning once again and had him practicing first year spells in class. Malfoy hadn't so much as twitched at that - last year he'd have been laughing his poncy arse off and making Harry's life even more difficult than it already was.

The other Houses were rather mixed in their reactions. Slytherin was fairly unsure of Harry, several of the members seemed to be expecting him to hex them at any moment and certainly weren't looking to the staff for protection. Those must be the children of Death Eaters, though several were wondering why Malfoy was able to be in the same room as Harry and not even rate a second glance. They had even been seen exchanging neutral polite words with each other, something that Hermione had thought impossible.

Ravenclaw were curious. In fact several of them were so curious that they started following Harry around and listening intently to his discussions with other people. Harry was definitely aware of this, though there was no real way to stop them. Using charms against his fellow students to ensure his privacy was tempting, but would probably be frowned on. Not to mention making everyone think that he had something to hide from them all, thus exciting further curiosity and defeating the purpose of the charms in the first place. Ron was a lot more vocal in his opinion of this matter than Harry, and there were several heated exchanges on the matter.

Hufflepuff touched him. Every single student made a point to hug, shake hands with, pat on the shoulder or back, or tousle Harry's hair during the first of the three day cycles he would be spending at the school. There was even one pat on the bum, but Ron soon saw that opportunist off and after the word got around no one made that mistake again. Madame Pomfrey was able to reattach the hand in question so that was all right and Ron only lost the House 10 points.

The teachers smiled at him. One or two made a point of saying welcome back at the start of class, and Hagrid hugged him in front of the whole school, but on the whole their teachers were much more rational about the whole situation. Maybe it was because they'd had time over the Christmas break to get used to Harry and his dreadful appearance, the teachers appeared quite sanguine about Harry, even those that were offering him private lessons.

Of the whole school, not counting Filch of course who would never be happy to see a student come back to Hogwarts no matter what the circumstances, there were two notable exceptions to the 'love fest' as Ginny had so crudely described it. Harry had nearly choked to death on his pumpkin juice when his honorary little sister had felt the need to share that particular gift of description with them over dinner, and she had been mortified when the over-protective and slightly hysterical House had screamed for Madam Pomfrey along with accusations of Ginny killing 'our Harry'.

Exception number one to the 'love fest', as Ron now repeatedly called it to Harry's mortification, was Professor Slughorn. He had been brought in to teach Potions in Snape's place, and was rather gifted at it. Hermione found him a little difficult to bear as he seemed to put as much store by a person's family name and connections as their ability to correctly brew an assignment, which was almost as bad as Snape favouring Slytherin as far as she was concerned. Slughorn had approached Harry on his first day back in front of almost the whole school and had stated rather loudly that he had noted that Harry had failed to sign up for Potions.

"…Which is really fundamental, young man. Not to worry, I am sure that I can accommodate your schedule. I understand from Albus that you're only here on a part-time basis and I will be happy to give you the extra tutelage you'll need to catch up."

Hermione had expected to see the temper that was simmering in Harry's eyes to be let loose, but he had managed to keep himself under control. He had drawn himself up and in an eerie imitation of their usual Potions Master had informed the man that he was being privately tutored by a well known master and had no need to pursue Potions 'in the format it was being offered at Hogwarts'. The blow to Slughorn's' pride was almost a mortal one, and Hermione privately thought the man would rather eat bubotuber pus than accept Harry into any classroom of his in the future.

Harry was not taking Defence Against the Dark Arts either, and Professor Jones was not too pleased about that. Evidently the Welshman felt that it would be something of a feather in his cap to be known as the man who taught the Boy-Who-Lived Defence, but Harry had not even looked twice at the ex-Unspeakable since he resumed classes, and Jones was not about to repeat Slughorn's mistake. After all, he was much more dignified than Slughorn, and seemed to make it a point of pride to never have so much as a hair out of place. His opinion on the subject was blatantly clear in the way he ignored Harry so completely; even Filch was warmer in his regard of Harry than Jones.

What surprised Hermione most was the way Snape reacted to the two teachers in particular. The golden Phoenix that Hermione had seen with Harry over Christmas brought the man to the doors of the Great Hall at the beginning of dinner on Harry's last evening in the castle. He would be travelling away with Snape once dinner was finished to wherever they had spent the summer, and seemed to be looking forward to it, if regretting the upcoming separation from Ron.

You didn't need to be a Ravenclaw to figure out that something had changed in the boy's friendship. Hermione was almost sure she knew what too.

Snape had nodded to Harry in passing, sweeping up to take his usual seat at the teachers table. Slytherin had welcomed their Head of House none too subtly with nods and whispers, though a dark glance soon had them back to their usual composure. Harry had chuckled, but she wasn't sure why. Slughorn had obviously heard of Snape and had tried to engage him in conversation for several minutes, which Snape had scotched with a few of his vicious one word answers and biting glares that the student body were all too familiar with. It was sort of fascinating to see them directed at an adult for a change, certainly the difference in age made no difference to their impact. Jones was treated with complete indifference until the Professor clearly mentioned something about Harry. Albus had been forced to confiscate Snape's wand with the kind of look you would have expected to see levelled at an errant first year. Not that Snape was in any way deterred from quietly and efficiently decimating his opponent verbally. It was almost a pity tat the Headmaster had waved his hand and erected a spell to prevent the Hall from hearing what was being said.

After that, both disgruntled teachers left Snape alone, and in the following three-day cycles they made it a point to leave Harry alone too.

That was a point in Snape's favour.

0o0o0o0

Albus was not surprised to see Severus slumped in his best armchair, sipping tea and idly flicking through Harry's latest Arithmancy effort. For someone who had never studied the discipline the boy was markedly quick at picking up the basics and very intuitive in his grasp of the algorithms and diagrams that were being taught. Harry played with magic almost the same way a baby played with blocks, fitting it together in a way to suit him, and sometimes in ways that no one had thought possible.

"A passable effort," Severus tossed the essay onto a nearby end table, "Though there are several points that he needs to clarify."

"Yes," Albus smiled, taking his seat opposite and taping his ever-present teapot, "That is merely his first draft. He had asked me to cast an eye over it. How are you Severus?"

Ink chose that moment to announce its presence by clawing its way out of Severus' hem and tumbling onto the rug. The kitten had grown into a young kneazle, thin and spiky furred with little of the grace that the breed usually had. It would be at least a year before it reached that stage, and in the meantime she would be discovering several of her birth powers, namely the one that let her appear and disappear at will from all sorts of unlikely locations.

"Plagued," Severus scowled, "If I ever catch up with the idiot that keyed the love potion directly to me I will leave him wishing I had treated him as well as I do a potions ingredient."

Albus chuckled and handed across a teacup, with a shortbread tucked into the saucer. He knew the Potions Master actually enjoyed the shortbreads, and always made a point to have some on hand. The besotted creature clambered up the leg of the armchair and stole into Severus' lap, settling quickly and hooking its claws into his robes, as if stating that Severus would have to wear ribbons home if he wanted the thing out of his lap.

"I take it that young Harry has been progressing well in his lessons with you?" Albus kindly gave his protégé a conversational gift, ignoring the kneazle that was now purring away happily as a long finger absently ran over its back. The Headmaster was beginning to think that Severus was warming to the little thing, despite himself.

"He has," Severus inclined his head, "Even his Potions work has improved. I need only demonstrate a spell once or twice for him to grasp the basics, and I have yet to see him require more than five attempts to fully master the spell to a good standard."

"And his attitude? Forgive me dear boy, but the two of you have quite the history in a classroom setting," Albus sipped his tea and Severus smirked in reassurance.

"He pays attention, completes assignments on time and manages to refrain from asking too many inane questions," the dark eyed man reported, "All in all his attitude is satisfactory and his application to his studies all that is required. We spend some time devoted to subjects that are not included on the normal curriculum - things that Harry is curious about and has negotiated for. He is becoming quite skilled at arguing without offending his opponent, a very subtle art form."

And one that Severus was no doubt enjoying. The irascible man was not above enjoying an argument for arguments sake, and a well-crafted argument was as potent to him as some of his own potions. The news that Harry was learning quickly was no surprise either. The one on one attention the teen was receiving wasn't something to be abused, and Harry would be very careful to show his appreciation in the only way that Severus would allow it - by learning quickly and learning well. That the teen was thriving on the challenges Severus was setting was evident - Harry had good colour, energy and was gaining weight finally, though the teen had moaned to Albus in private that his potion now tasted like a dead toad, and that he would welcome back the dead mouse flavour.

"What sort of things?" Albus asked curiously, hoping he wasn't going to regret leaving those two alone together. As much as Harry might resent the comparison there was a certain amount of his father in the boy, though it was expressed as a very quirky form of curiosity when it came to learning new spells and forms of magic.

"The Animagus transformation for one," Severus sighed, "As you know it was not something I ever mastered, though Potter seems convinced that he can learn and then teach me."

There was an element of hope hidden beneath the layers of sceptical disbelief and ungraceful envy in Severus' voice that Albus very kindly didn't call him on. He merely smiled into his teacup and settled into his chair as Severus detailed how far Harry's studies in that field had progressed.

0o0o0o0


	36. disturbed fur

…_disturbed fur_…

Ink was creating a rather inordinate amount of fuss out in the parlour and Severus was about ready to fetch his wand and hex her. Whenever he had a delicate potion to brew he preferred there be only himself in the lab and the kitten didn't like that. She would meow piteously outside the door unless Harry managed to silence her, or Snape had managed to lock her into his room upstairs. She still wouldn't tolerate Harry's presence, though she had stopped attacking him for merely walking past.

Severus added the final ingredient and turned the heat down, watching the potion begin a subtle simmer that would have to be maintained for the next three hours. It was a delicate rose colour, and the steam that drifted across the surface of it was faintly green which was exactly right. He stepped back and tidied his ingredients away, checking the mouse he had used and placing it carefully back in the cage with its mates. It looked a little disgruntled that its once fine whiskers were missing, but they would soon re-grow. Once everything was tidy he turned and strode for the door to the main house. Ink had continued to make a racket, and he was contemplating kneazle-cide as he wrenched the door open and stepped through quickly, closing it behind him to keep the wretched thing out of his lab. He had learned the hard way that she would run into whichever room she had been barred from and her reckless dash often left a trail of detritus in her decidedly ungraceful wake.

The reason for the commotion was immediately apparent. A large panther sat quietly by the fire, trying to read a page that Ink had apparently shredded. Ink was puffed up and hissing and spitting, not to mention yowling and pouncing towards the creature. One swipe of the heavy paws and the kneazle would be killed if not seriously injured, yet the panther was patiently ignoring the little menace and not retaliating when its nervously twitching tail was attacked.

"Harry?" Severus' voice was incredulous, and the panther looked up, a silent plea evident in the startling green eyes. The Potions Master hit the kitten with a mild stunning spell and then scooped it up and put it away in the lined basket that Harry had conjured for him while the boy was still blind. With the noise gone the panther heaved a huge sigh of relief and returned its attention to the page it was trying to read.

Severus approached cautiously, though he was fairly sure the panther mind was firmly under the control of the human within, otherwise Ink would have been in no fit state to make that amount of noise for as long as she had. Harry purred at him, a reassuring rumble that Severus was glad to hear and allowed him to stroke a thickly velveted ear. There was a patch of disturbed fur between the animal's ears and he risked a chuckle.

"Even as an animagus your hair is untamed," he snarked lightly and got a disgruntled growl in reply, "Are you stuck?"

If the boy was then he'd need to call Albus or Minerva for help. Evidently the change had been overpowered by Harry's Magic, which meant the boy was not as well versed in the spells and process as Severus would like. Typical Gryffindor, to rush ahead when Slytherin's would wait.

The panther grumbled and nudged at the page it was trying to read. Severus cautiously reached under the broad nose and removed the page, lifting it delicately to avoid any further damage. He placed it flat on the low table in front of the couch under the panther's anxious eyes and then tried a few delicate repair spells that nudged the paper into something more stable. Harry rubbed his squared head against Severus shoulder in thanks and both of them bent over to look through the instructions.

It did not take long to determine that there were several vital steps missing from the page in front of them and that Harry would need expert assistance to return to his human form. Severus rubbed the repentant head that rested on his knee as he wrote a short message to Albus, requesting Minerva's assistance as soon as possible, knowing that a request for help from the summer house would have Albus in residence as a matter of course.

Flash appeared when called, and from the coldness of the Phoenix' feathers it had been flying in the cool spring air outside. It would be Easter soon, and the weather was slowly warming, even as the days got longer and the heavy snowfall melted. Severus knew that Harry would be pleased to go out again without the vast amount of layers that were mandatory for the teen to wear. He had recovered enough weight that he was now as thin as he had been upon first entering Hogwarts, and as that was still considered to be underweight by both Severus and Madam Pomfrey, Harry was forced to wrap up in many layers to ward off the cold.

"Minerva will be here soon," Severus said bracingly as Flash disappeared with the message and a very smug air. The Potions Master could have sworn that the Phoenix had been laughing at Harry's predicament, and from the disgruntled air that Harry wore the teen thought so too. The panther sighed and padded over to the fireplace, flopping down gracelessly and closing its eyes.

There was a sound from Inks basket and Severus went to let her out, holding her firmly on his lap to prevent her trying to attack Harry once more.

0o0o0o0

Albus wasn't entirely sure what he'd been expecting when Flash deposited them in the parlour of his summer house, but the panther on the rug certainly wasn't it. Minerva exclaimed immediately and transformed to her cat self, bounding over to Harry and rubbing noses with him. Ink, who had hissed indignantly at the sight of yet _another_ cat in _her_ territory stuttered to a surprised halt and watched the two cats greet each other with rumbling purrs and rubbed heads. The black Kneazle wiggled out of Severus' restraining hands and crept towards the two cats by the fire, whiskers quivering.

"Perhaps they'll teach her some manners," Severus complained as Albus sat in the chair beside him, making the elder Sorcerer chuckle.

"What happened?" Albus asked, fascinated by Harry's powerful form. His boy was handsome and sleek, though even as an Animagus he seemed a little thin.

"I believe Harry was rehearsing the Animagus spell while I brewed in the next room; it appears that he had a surge of magic which caused the spell to be overpowered and Harry transformed. Ink panicked and shredded the instructions that Harry was using. There are several steps missing, and neither of us were willing to experiment with this particular spell," Severus murmured softly.

"Quite right," Albus agreed. You didn't want amateurs playing around with this particular spell, as the results could be fatal. Harry abandoned the two smaller cats to pad over to Albus, looking at him plaintively, a very untypical expression for such a powerful hunter. The Headmaster beamed and leaned forward to pet silken fur, earning himself a deep purr and a gentle nudge.

"Very handsome, dear boy," the white haired man approved, "Now, lets teach you to control the change and reversal, hmm?"

Harry nodded as McGonagall popped back into her normal shape, startling Ink who ran to hide in Severus robes. The Headmaster watched his deputy as she talked Harry through the finer points of the spell and the visualisations that would go with it. She demonstrated it once and then turned into a human once more and folded her hands expectantly. The panther sighed softly, stepped back and turned into Harry's familiar form, a very sheepish look on the well known face.

"Harry, you're a menace," Severus' low statement was coloured with relief, and Albus was well pleased to see that Harry took the comment in the intended spirit, rather than taking umbrage and scowling.

"Sorry Severus," he mumbled, "But it was Ink's fault."

"Rubbish! Ink is a dim witted creature, and you…" Severus trailed off when he realised what he was about to say and scowled thunderously at the teen who was offering a very engaging and shy grin at the unintended praise.

"Ink jumped on me as I walked past the bookcase where she was yowling. She was trying to get into the potions lab through the gap in the top of the door," Harry pointed to the small gap. The kitten would never have fit through it, but that did not prevent Severus from aiming a rather vicious construction spell at the door in question, much to Albus amusement.

"She startled me as I was reading through the instructions for the first change, and shredded the paper in shock when I actually managed it," Harry was undoubtedly proud of himself for achieving this particular goal, and Albus beamed back at the teen.

"Well, it remains to be seen if you have mastered it properly," Minerva stated, "Change again Harry."

There was a small pause and then the panther took Harry's place, the alteration so swift and sure as to be almost instantaneous. Harry complied with various requests to extend and retract his claws and perform other panther like actions before being told to change back again. He changed back and forth on command several times before Minerva and Severus announced they were satisfied, by which point he was hiding behind Albus in the hope of getting a break from his demanding teachers.

"All that remains is to name you, dear boy," Albus patted the couch and Harry leapt up to sit neatly between himself and Severus, his tail wrapped around his front paws and whiskers pointing forward in interest. He looked rather like an over sized house cat.

"Is that really necessary Albus?" Severus groaned and Minerva shot her colleague a dark look.

"All Animagus have names for their form, its tradition," she said sharply, "My cat form is known as Persnicketty."

No one dared to laugh at that, not with the way she was glaring at them, though Harry's tail twitched.

"Pudding," Albus suggested, garnering a proper panther glare for his suggestion, "Pouncer, Stalker, Hunter…"

"Really Albus, why not just do away with all pride and call him P-for?" Severus suggested sarcastically.

"P-For?" Minerva frowned trying to work that one out.

"P-for-panther," Severus clarified and got growled at, with Harry flattening his ears to his head for emphasis.

"Midnight," Minerva had a misty quality to her that was rarely seen, but Harry sighed and shook his head. Evidently plays on his colour were as anathema to him as plays on his ability.

"Nine? Do you even have nine lives left?" Severus appeared to regret the comment the moment he said it though Harry made a noise that was undoubtedly a snicker in reply. He allowed Severus to rub a velvet ear in apology and purred softly in reassurance.

"Hmm, this is more difficult than I thought," Albus mused, "How about… Soot?"

Harry startled them all by purring in approval and even Severus nodded in agreement. Soot rubbed against Albus' shoulder and then turned back into Harry, with the familiar messy hair, bright eyes and happy grin.

"Messy and inconvenient," Severus approved, and Harry blushed as the adults laughed at him.

0o0o0o0


	37. freckled cretin

… _freckled cretin_ …

Ron had been delighted that Harry had gotten permission for the two of them to travel to Diagon Alley over the Easter holidays. He'd had an ecstatic letter delivered to him by Flash, who had seemed just as excited by the idea of shadowing the two of them for the day in the Wizarding social centre. Harry had the option of turning into Soot if things got sticky, which made for a great disguise, and Flash would be able to transport them out safely the minute they spotted danger. As Harry was unable to say at Hogwarts for the entire holidays, something to do with a portion of his training requiring an uninterrupted stretch of time, this chance was a sort of consolation prize for them both.

Soot was waiting when Ron made it to the Headmaster's office, and pounced on Ron the moment he stepped through the door. Ron laughed, buried his fingers in silken fur and let Harry sniff him, rubbing his square head in Ron's own hair and purring before swiping a rough tongue over Ron's nose and leaping away as the redhead spluttered and complained loudly.

"Git," Ron frowned as Harry changed back and conjured a cloth for Ron to wipe the lick off. Ron made a point of glaring over the cloth and then stuffed it in a pocket and going for a hug, mindful of the elderly Wizard that was chuckling at their antics. He knew that the Headmaster was aware of their relationship, but neither teen was interested in public displays of affection.

"As amusing as this is, you will need to go soon, boys," Albus murmured from where he sat and Ron let go of his lover to retrieve the portkey resting on the Headmaster's desk. It was a violently coloured sock, and he shuddered at the thought of anyone wearing something so hideously bright. Harry came to stand beside him, nipping the toe of the sock between his fingers and waiting patiently for the portkey to activate.

They arrived in the room that Albus had reserved in advance for today in the Leaky Cauldron. This was to be a safe point for them, in case of emergencies. If for some reason they couldn't get out of the Alley using the portkey, Flash or the Floo network, then this room had a set of wards designed to help the teens hide from pursuit and alert Albus that they needed help.

The room had a huge bed, and Ron turned his back on it, not wanting to waste their day out staying in. They would have a lifetime together, but Ron wanted to spend the day watching Harry enjoy the Alley, something that he'd only done once or twice before in the summer.

"Right, where first?" Harry was also pointedly ignoring the bed, and Ron grinned; they were in silent agreement then.

"The twins have some new lines out," he hinted and Harry's face lit up. The Boy Who Lived was always up for some of the twin's mayhem, and a lot more graceful about being used as a test subject than the rest of the family. Ron gave it a couple more years before Harry got as tired of it as the rest of the family and started retaliating with the best of them. The Twins had better look out for that day… once Harry had enough there was no stopping him.

Harry was wearing a cloak with a hood, and as they stepped out of the room he pulled the hood up, glancing apologetically at Ron as he did. Glamour's were often defeated by Harry's scar, the cursed mark defying all attempts to disguise or remove it, so simple solutions such as cloaks with hoods had to be employed instead. The hysteria surrounding Harry's escape from Voldemort had not abated at all in the past months, something that had Ron very upset. He knew how private Harry was, and had finally got it through his thick head that no matter what was offered to his lover, Harry would be more than happy just being Harry, unrewarded and unobserved.

Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes was an eyesore on the face of the alley, and Ron grinned fondly at the rioting window display of products. The Twins were as productive as ever and had apparently gotten hold of a clerk-come-test-subject, which was helping them immensely in two areas. Ron couldn't believe there was someone insane enough outside of the family to volunteer to be the Twins test subject, but was glad that he hadn't been drafted into the position by default of being the youngest brother; and it couldn't be denied that the clerk had straightened out and maintained a logical bookkeeping system.

Harry was hit by a hair colour spell the moment he walked through the door, which Ron had forgotten to warn him about. Each time the door opened the first person through was hit with a minor prank spell, usually changing the colour, shape or size of something. He didn't look like himself with hot pink hair, though the laughing face was still familiar.

"Harry!" Fred exclaimed his face crumbling from welcome to horror as he realised who he had pranked. Fred dropped what he was holding and vaulted the counter, running to hug Ron's lover and rubbing his hand through the changed hair in what Ron thought was a bit of an overreaction, "Are you ok?"

"Fine Gred," Harry reassured the anxious twin, "I'm over the panic stage."

Ron mused that the secrecy surrounding Harry's recovery should be lifted from the family as George prised Harry loose from Fred, hugged him fiercely and then reluctantly let go as well. Harry made a point of dusting himself down for pranks while the twins laughed like heathens and Ron looked around at the mostly empty shop. At this time of day he wouldn't expect to see the younger, non-Hogwarts children around, and he knew that the Twins were managing a very popular mail order business with the older school bound crowd; as the morning grew older the youngsters would appear with parent in tow, for now it was quiet.

"Good to see you Harry," George grinned, not even sparing Ron a glance.

"Oi!" Ron decided it was time to stop the mushy stuff and announced his presence in typical style.

"Can't say much for your choice in companions," Fred sighed, "You'd think you'd be hanging out with a better class of people."

"Then I'd never see you two, because there's no one better than Ron," Harry retorted and the Twins gagged in reply. It was commonly known that Ron and Harry were together, at least commonly known to the Weasley family, and Ron had been sent a scorching letter from the Twins threatening him with dire consequences if he hurt Harry.

"Well look around then!" Fred directed.

"You haven't been here before," George chimed in.

"So you've yet to discover…"

"All the mysteries, delights…"

"And mischief on offer!"

Harry grinned, unperturbed by the eerie double speech that the Twins favoured and moved away to browse through the nearest shelves. Fred and George headed back to the counter, and Ron decided to go with them, taking the time to catch up with his older brothers. He was closer to the twins than Charlie and Bill, mainly because those two had been away at school for most of his early years. Harry rounded the corner of the shelves, hands firmly in his pocket to prevent the temptation of touching anything and getting pranked again. His hair was slowly fading back to black.

"Where's your test subject today then?" Ron asked amiably as the Twins started setting up a small display beside the register of skiving snack boxes.

"Out the back, paying bills," Fred replied, and George frowned.

"No, he's stocking shelves."

Ron tuned them out as they began to bicker, the name calling a familiar background noise. WWW smelt of mischief, and he wondered how they had managed it.

"Listen you freckled cretin, I know he's out the back paying bills!" Fred insisted loudly.

"Then who is that over there talking to Harry?" George retorted and there was a moment of silence before both Weasley's went a dirty white colour and turned to look at Harry. Ron turned too, wondering who on earth they had taken on to get the Twins so upset at the idea of an unsupervised conversation with the Weasley-By-Default, and bit his lip when he realised who it was that the twins had hired for a test subject.

Percy Weasley was speaking to Harry.

0o0o0o0

"Hullo Percy," it seemed rude to just ignore the man, a very different Percy to the one he'd last seen, and certainly a different Percy to the one he'd last heard. Prior to the summer, Percy had still been as pompous and priggish as ever, wearing smart new robes, and with his nose in the air. It hadn't sounded like that had changed during their one and only disastrous meeting during the Summer, but now Harry was confronted with someone who… well looked like a Weasley. Percy's hair was neat enough, but a bit dusty; his robes were in good condition, but old and a little faded. He was stocking shelves when Harry had come across him, at Harry's words he leapt up in shock and backed away.

"Harry!" there was a faint hint of panic in the older mans voice, "If I'd known you would be here today I'd have made myself scarce!"

"Come on, Percy," real annoyance coloured Harry's tone, "You can't still believe I'm an unstable liar."

"No of course not!" Percy spluttered, "Its just that I treated you so badly… and then I hurt you the last time we met… I'd thought you'd prefer not to see me!"

"Oh," Harry was rather taken aback. Percy was a prat at times, but he was Ron's brother, and Molly and Arthur's son. Harry knew that there had been no real malice on Percy's part when he'd cast that spell, and had made a determined effort to forgive and forget for Ron's sake if nothing else. He'd not had any contact with Percy since the spell had been cast, and Ron had refused to discuss his brother. Ginny had let slip that Percy had reconciled with her parents, though the rest of the siblings were waiting to see real evidence that their brother had changed.

"Percy, I… it's not a problem, really. I don't have a problem talking to you," Harry wondered how to phrase this. He didn't want to come across as condescending, but at the same time he wanted to make it clear to Ron's brother that he bore no grudge. The truth of the matter was that Percy was at the bottom of a very long list of seriously dangerous enemies. Harry didn't have time to worry about him, especially as he knew that the rest of the Weasley's were more than capable of dealing with this threat for him. In the end, Harry judged it better not to try and express that sentiment to Ron's brother. It would just cause bad feeling.

"I know you were just doing your job," Harry offered awkwardly, resolving not to mention what he thought of Percy's old job _or_ his old boss, "And I guess you were just looking out for Ron's best interests when you wrote that letter. So its ok, I understand."

Awkward _and_ condescending, what a special mix; Harry winced internally and waited for a blast of withering scorn from the former Head Boy. Percy grimaced, but kept whatever he thought about Harry's last comments to himself.

"Its kind of you to say so," the stiff comment was as close as they were going to get to closure on _that_ topic, so Harry cast about for a new one quickly.

"So you're working with the twins now?" he hoped that this would prove to be less controversial.

"They needed an experimental subject," Percy shrugged rather indifferently, "And it's a penance of sorts I suppose. Hard to be Percy the Big-Headed Boy when you've got feathers, or fur, or any number of extra appendages really. They're teaching me humility, or so I am informed on a daily basis…"

"Percy, that's horrible," Harry was aghast. It was also unhealthy. Not that the twins would actually hurt him, or anything, but eventually Percy would have enough and begin to resent things, rather than accept them. That would be a huge step back, in fact the worst case scenario would be that he'd actually be driven away from the family into the arms of those who wished his family harm.

"It's alright, Harry!" Percy put a hand up, but seemed to think twice about touching him, "I don't really see it as penance… that's what Fred and George call it."

"Then what?" Harry really hoped that Percy wasn't being coerced into this by anyone. The redheads' next words reassured him.

"I needed… to learn to laugh again. To not take things so seriously all the time… to be more flexible. And these two desperately needed someone with sense to go over their books! I mean honestly, I'm not sure how they didn't go bankrupt in the first five minutes with some of their business practices. The business is making a really good profit now, and I… well I'm content," Percy smiled sheepishly, "It turns out that the twins were right all along. There's no reason that work can't be enjoyable, and they really do enjoy it to the full. I needed to learn that again…"

Harry smiled back and nodded, but before he could reply three anxious redheads descended on them.

"Hello, you three," Harry looked at them in surprise, "Is there a problem? Am I distracting Percy too much?"

"No," Fred squinted at his older brother suspiciously, "Its fine, Harry. Have you seen the latest line in Skiving Snackboxes?"

Harry found himself firmly ushered away from Percy, and went without a fuss. He spent an enjoyable ten minutes discussing some of Fred's latest ideas, and then smiled at the still anxious looking teen.

"I'm glad you took Percy on, Fred," he whispered, "If you don't think it's out of line to say so."

Fred looked vastly relieved and shook his head.

"Someone had to keep him out of trouble," the Twin grinned, "Mum and Dad were so worried about him after he lost his job; this gives them peace of mind. And we get to try all our new products on one of our favourite victims! It keeps him humble, don't you know."

"I'm sure it does," Harry grinned back, and let the subject drop.

0o0o0o0


	38. an empty cell

… _an empty cell_ …

Remus stepped away from Fawkes and politely thanked the Phoenix, peering about at Albus' now legendary summer house. Somehow it had gotten out that the Boy-Who-Lived was sequestered at one of Albus' properties, and the _Daily Prophet_ had printed as many innuendo's and lies as it thought it could get away with. The paper had unfortunately been resurrected only a week after closing, albeit with an entirely new editing team after the debacle of Harry's interview with Fudge. Unfortunately they were only a small improvement over the last lot.

Remus wasn't here because of the article. Harry needed a second duelling partner, and Albus had requested that Remus take the position. The werewolf had been happy to, it would be a chance to spend time with James' son, and he would have the added benefit of helping Harry prepare for the tasks that were facing him. Remus had no doubt at all in his mind that Harry's eventual destiny was to rid them all of Voldemort, and he wanted his best friends son to survive that task.

There was no one to meet him, but he hadn't expected a welcoming party. According to the Headmaster, Severus and Harry worked very hard, to a long and tight schedule. Nothing could change the schedule, short of one of them becoming seriously injured or ill, and that hadn't happened since Harry had healed himself at Christmas. Albus had warned him that when Harry duelled the teen was prone to overpowering spells, and had checked that Remus knew a variety of quick but strong shield spells. Apparently Severus didn't believe in pulling his punches when training, and Remus had agreed to reserve judgement on those methods until he'd had a chance to evaluate how well Harry reacted to them. He knew from his time as a Professor at Hogwarts that Severus had an intimidating classroom presence, and hoped that Harry was more comfortable with it that he had previously been.

Fawkes was at the doors that led out onto the patio where they'd held Harry's birthday party, and Remus shook himself out of his thoughts, hurrying to let the Phoenix out and following obediently when called.

It was Easter, and the garden was putting on a lovely display as it defied the last of the brisk winter chill. Remus noted several rare plants on his way along the path that led to the bottom of the garden, and let himself through the gate into the orchard when Fawkes soared majestically over it and alighted next to Flash. Remus approached Harry's bonded with a little trepidation. Not only had the Phoenix stolen several hairs from his head, he had a confused impression of the golden creature during his moon-time as well. Moony had lost several tail hairs to it. As if reading his thoughts, Flash trilled softly in welcome, and twitched his tail. Remus smiled and then followed Fawkes intent gaze.

In the middle of the orchard, two figures battled. Soundless spells flashed and flew, rebounds aimed for maximum effect, the duellists casting with scant pause. In fact if it had been a Ministry approved duel, both would have been disqualified many times over. Harry was the shorter of the two, but it was Severus who was hard pressed to keep up, despite his greater experience and stock of spells. It was an impressive display, but Remus could instantly see where Harry's weakness was. Severus had noted the presence of a Human observer, but Harry had not.

"I'm going to join in," Remus drew his wand and spoke to the Phoenixes, unsure how they'd take his sudden attack of a favourite, "It's a training exercise for Harry, so don't panic, ok?"

That earned him two very regal and annoyed glares. He shrugged and slipped through the trees, circling around Harry. Severus noted this and turned the teen a little, allowing Remus to get into place a little quicker.

"_Incarcerous_!" ropes flew from the werewolf's wand as Severus cast a slashing jinx. In a trice Harry was wrapped securely in ropes and on the ground. There was no wand to summon, but Severus set up a shield around Harry to prevent the teen from hexing either one of them. The Potions Master was breathing hard, and pink cheeked. Anyone else would have been scarlet in the face and sobbing for air, but Severus had always been one of the fittest people that Remus knew.

"Hello Remus," Harry said from behind the shield, "I yield, Severus."

"You are not to release him until he yields," Severus instructed Remus firmly, and Harry snickered.

"He learnt that the hard way!" the trussed up teen informed the werewolf, in a surprisingly good mood for someone who was technically defenceless, "I thought he was going to murder me when I hexed him bald and yellow."

"For someone who is tied up and helpless, you are far too complaisant Potter," Severus drawled, idly whirling his wand. There was a menacing air to the action that made Remus wary, but Harry merely raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not helpless," he replied and there was a loud CRACK! as he disappeared, leaving behind the empty ropes and glowing shield.

"_Potter!_" Severus roared, and Remus was surprised to detect a note of panic in the other mans voice, "Lupin, he's not had lessons!"

An untaught amateur, Apparating for the first time could seriously splinch himself. Remus turned hastily on the spot as Severus cancelled the incarceration spells in order to cast a point me charm. The house was layered with anti-apparition charms and wards, which would tear at a beginner in such a way that guaranteed a nasty splinching.

"_Petrificus totalus_," the whisper came from where the shield had been and both men toppled to the ground, landing on a cushioning spell. Harry's feet came into view as he walked around the two of them.

"I soundlessly cast a noise spell, and an illusion spell. I didn't disapparate," Harry said quietly, "I've been thinking for some time that there is no point in locking an empty cell, so if I could make it seem as if I had escaped right in front of someone's eyes, despite their best spells they would have to unlock whatever was holding me. At the very least they would leave the area and I could try to unlock myself. I'm going to release the spell now."

The body bind melted away and Remus leapt to his feet, beaming. As a strategy went that had been nearly flawless. Severus also sprang up and took two hurried steps towards the teen. Remus tensed himself for a confrontation, for shouting and recriminations.

"Well done, Harry," the Potions Master put a hand on the black haired teens shoulder and almost smiled, "An effective illusion indeed. However…"

Harry yelped and went bright yellow and bald. He looked at the back of his hands in disbelief and ran a hand over his pate, then up at the smirking Potions Master. He charged with a wordless yell, and Remus collapsed the to ground, breathless with laughter as they wove in and out of the fruit trees. Severus' long legs sure did give him a nice turn of speed.

0o0o0o0

Harry put the last of the dishes away and smiled over at his fathers' friend. Remus looked as thin and worn as ever, but he was smiling, which was good to see. The afternoon's laughter still lurked in his eyes, which had prompted Severus to make several scathing remarks during dinner before heading off to brew. There would have been a time when those remarks would have Harry tense with anger, misunderstanding the complex subtleties of the tones that the words carried. Time alone with the complex man that was Severus, and the acute senses that his brief battle with blindness had honed, had taught him to look well beneath the surface. He had established a truce and rapport with the former spy that was as intricate and complex as the brews that the Potions Master revelled in.

"I have a letter from Ron," Remus held out the envelope, Harry's name sprawled over it in the familiar mess that was his friend's handwriting, "Albus asked me to deliver it."

"Thanks," Harry tucked the letter away, intending to read it later. He'd learnt that Ron's slightly risqué style of writing could have an inflammatory effect on him and now read his lovers correspondence in private.

"And I have a message from Albus too," Remus drew Harry into a hug, "I promised to pass this on."

Harry grinned into a thin shoulder and squeezed the werewolf gently in response.

"I won't ask you to return that," he teased and Remus laughed, pulling back reluctantly. Harry hated to see the slightly lost expression, and cast about for a distraction as quickly as he could, "Would you like to meet Soot?"

Remus smiled again and Harry changed swiftly, scenting the air in front of him curiously as Remus looked Soot over from tip to tail. He could smell the lycanthropy, hanging over his friend like a heavy cloud, a musky scent that tickled his nose. He sneezed to clear it and shook his head, earning a sad chuckle from the man in front of him.

"Padfoot did the same thing the first time he smelt Moony," Remus whispered, "And Prongs… he sneezed so hard he nearly fell over. You dad wasn't the most graceful thing on four legs the first few times he changed. Wormtail ran… we told him it was a natural reaction… should have known better."

Soot purred softly and nudged Remus back onto the couch before leaping up and resting a square head on the other mans shoulder. He rubbed his head along Remus' chin and jaw, rumbling in a comforting manner, feeling thin arms creep up to wrap around him. They sat still for a while, getting and giving comfort, until the werewolf could bear to let go. He messed up Soot's fur and received a playful growl for his trouble before Harry changed back and shuddered.

"That feels weird," he complained to his smiling friend, rubbing his hand through already messy hair and shuddering once more to rid himself of the sensation, "Like nails down a blackboard."

"Sorry, Harry. I couldn't resist," Remus didn't look too sorry, but Harry didn't mind. The bit of teasing was warm and friendly, nothing like the Dursley's or Malfoy's attempts. Besides, Remus would be here for the next few weeks - Severus wanted to monitor the werewolf on the build up to the full moon and Harry had already warded the structure that Severus would stay in while he observed Moony's transformation. Soot would be outside the structure of course, the werewolf was no threat to the Animagus. The fact that Remus would also be able to help him refine his battle and duelling techniques was icing on the cake as far as Harry was concerned.

There was a muted whoosh from the closed laboratory and Harry looked up with a frown. Flash trilled from his perch as Harry stood, heading for the lab door.

"That was Fawkes," he murmured to the confused Remus, and went to open the door. It was hit with a locking spell from the other side and Harry drew away, a moment of hurt crossing his face. Remus was up in a flash, worried that the Potions Master had received bad news from Albus. In his own way the werewolf had come to see Snape as a comrade, if not a friend.

"Severus?" Harry called softly, well aware that the man favoured one sided silencing spells. They wouldn't be able to hear inside the lab, but the Potions Master could hear them. Remus put a hand on Harry's shoulder, but whatever he was about to say was lost as the door unlocked and a grim faced Snape stepped out, a parchment clutched in one hand.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked quietly, keeping his voice level through force of will. It didn't help when Severus squeezed his shoulder gently before sliding his hand to rest on Harry's back - the Potion Master's version of a hug.

"There was an attack at the Ministry this afternoon, only two hours ago," there was no attempt to preface the information or break it gently, something that Harry appreciated even as his heart seized in panic for the Weasley Patriarch, "Arthur's office is empty, the Death Eaters targeted him specifically. We believe that the Dark Lord is attempting to force you to a confrontation."

Harry shut his eyes in horror, his mind whirling uselessly as he tried to take it all in, heedless of the questions that Remus was asking. Flash trilled softly, and recalled Harry to the moment.

"Do we know where the bastard is?" his voice was still surprisingly level and calm, a feat he'd not imagined he could pull off.

"Harry, there's nothing you can do," Remus said exactly the wrong thing, "You haven't had enough time to train yet, and if you go after him now you'll get yourself killed."

"I'm not planning on being the one to die, Remus," Harry turned to look at the worried werewolf. He let the two men usher him to a seat, all three choosing to sit on the long couch that often walked outside for Harry. He was sandwiched between the two older men, though for different reasons. Remus was trying to comfort him, and Severus was trying to keep him from running off and doing something stupid.

"Harry, we still aren't sure of the best way to kill the Dark Lord," Severus said firmly, "Rash action could prove to be your downfall, as it has before."

"You mean Sirius," Harry said heavily, not resenting the reminder, "It's different this time. We have a working hypotheses."

"What do you mean?" Remus withdrew the glare he was using on Severus for the remark and focussing on Harry once more.

"In my advanced lessons with the Headmaster, we've hypothesised how Voldemort survived in Godrics Hollow. We think he was able to split his Magic from his body in such a way that when his body was destroyed his Magic was … kind of recalled to another vessel or container. When he is in a body, then all of his Magic is with him, but when the body dies the Magic flees to a pre-prepared vessel, taking his soul with it. It can leave the vessel for a short time, to inhabit a living body through possessions, but the only way for it to survive properly is the ritual he conducted at the end of the Tri-Wizard tournament. Albus has kept track of some of the Dark Rites that Voldemort has performed on himself, and it all tracks. We have to bind his body, Magic and soul together in such a way that will prevent them from separating, then kill his body. When it dies everything else will too."

"Hmm," Severus murmured, "That makes sense of some of the things I have seen him do."

"That's beside the point," Remus spluttered, "The point is that Harry is not ready to face Voldemort, and rushing into a trap now could get him killed."

"Which is why he's going nowhere," Severus agreed, "At least let me research matters further, Harry. There may be a Binding ritual that will help us."

Harry nodded, not bothering to mention that he'd already researched several, and practiced them in the Chamber of Secrets during the few free periods he had that didn't coincide with Ron's. Harry knew in his heart of hearts that he could free Arthur and finish this war once and for all, if only he could get to Voldemort.

If only…

0o0o0o0


	39. in harms way

… _in harms way _…

Ron looked up at the sound of flames and ran straight into Harry's arms. He'd asked for his lover when Albus had broken the news, but hadn't expected that Harry would be able to come out of hiding, no matter which member of the family had been taken. He was of two hearts over this. One part of him wanted Harry safe, away from the undoubtedly deadly trap that Voldemort was setting. The other part of him wanted Harry to pull off one of his little miracle saves, like they had in first year with the troll, in second year for Ginny, like Harry had only last year with his visions of Arthur being attacked.

The only bright spot on the horizon was Harry's Occulmency. The teen would not be able to be tortured by Voldemort with visions of Arthur's pain and suffering, a slim comfort but one that Ron clung to. It meant that any action Harry took was more likely to be reasoned and well thought out.

"Ronnie," Harry mumbled into his neck as Flash settled on his pet's empty dorm bed, "Oh Ronnie."

There was a hint of tears in Harry's voice, and Ron hugged his friend tightly, desperate for the comfort that only Harry could give him now. Ginny had asked for Luna, and was holed up in Professor McGonagall's office at the moment, hugging her friend tightly. Ron had a lot of time for Luna, she had been such a comfort to Ginny of late.

"I've got you," Harry sighed gently and rocked them back and forth. Ron had locked himself into the dorm, and the other boys had so far respected his need for privacy. There was a time when Hermione would have come up anyway, but she was not speaking to him yet again, this time for not explaining to her more quickly some of the secrets from the summer. They were finding it harder and harder to forgive each other after each row, and Ron was beginning to wonder if Harry was the only thing they'd ever had in common.

"They've got Dad," Ron muttered into the warmth of his friend and was held closely for a few more moments.

"Not for long," the whispered promise floated in the room and Ron shivered, clutching Harry even tighter. The Boy-Who-Lived would sacrifice himself in a heartbeat for the man he called Dad if he thought there was the slightest chance of it doing any good. The same held true for any of the Weasley's.

"Ron, did Dad mention about Flash stealing some of his hair?" the question was muttered into Ron's shoulder and he pulled back just enough to look at the green eyed teen. The question was so unexpected that it took him a moment to find the answer.

"Yeah, he did. In fact I think that Flash has had some from all of the family, even Bill."

If Harry was asking then that meant he had a plan, and Ron tightened his grip, determined that Harry wouldn't go without him at the least, the rest of the Weasley boys at best. He didn't want his lover to risk himself and their father on a plan that was badly thought out, and Harry would throw himself in harms way in an instant if he thought it would save Arthur.

"You think that Flash can trace him through his hair?"

"I'm pretty sure he can, but I wanted to know for certain that he was in possession of some of Arthur's hair," Harry sighed. His grip on Ron hadn't eased, and nor was he trying to back away, which Ron took as a good sign. Harry wasn't trying to go it alone just yet, so maybe there was hope for Ron assisting in the rescue of his father.

"Whatever you do, I'm coming with you," Ron informed his lover, who drew him back into the cuddle gently.

"It's not guaranteed to work," Harry confessed, and Ron snorted. Harry hated to see people he loved get hurt, but the Boy-Who-Lived couldn't keep his family in a glass jar. Life had all sorts of risks and Ron had always felt that they had been very lucky so far to survive the war with no casualties among the family.

"In war, there are no guarantee's. I'm coming with you at the very least. I think we'd do better if we gathered the rest of the brothers though. Even Charlie and Bill are in the country at the moment and they're both wicked strong," Ron's tone was that of a demand, and Harry didn't respond for a few minutes, breathing evenly as he held the redhead and thought it over.

"If Flash can carry seven of us, and they're all in one spot then we'll do it," Ron's heart melted in relief as Harry accepted the help of his family. It seemed that the painful lesson learnt in the Department of Mysteries had sunk in, and Harry was not going to walk unprepared into the situation that was awaiting them.

Arthur Weasley's chances had just improved dramatically.

0o0o0o0

Flash deposited Ron just outside the back door of the Burrow, and he pushed it open immediately, spotting his pale mother at the kitchen table, surrounded by her grim faced sons.

"Ron!" she exclaimed as Flash soared inside to alight on the back of his dad's chair, "What are you doing here?"

"Harry sent Flash to me," Ron hesitated by the door for a moment, then closed it, going to hug his mother, "I wanted to see how you were."

"Where's your sister?" Molly fussed, smoothing his hair, "Is she alright?"

"She's with Luna and McGonagall in the Professors office," Ron replied, "She's ok. I didn't want to disturb her."

Molly nodded and looked around the room as if trying to remember something important.

"Look mum, why don't you go upstairs and rest for a bit? We'll be here if anyone calls," Ron suggested and his brothers immediately backed him up. Five minutes of cajoling and promises later, Molly was upstairs, resting on her bed while Ron waved a low level privacy spell over the stairs.

"Alright Ron," Fred said the moment the spell was stable.

"What's _really_ going on?" George completed the sentiment and Ron sighed. There was a rustle next to him and Harry pulled his fathers cloak off, running a futile hand over his messy hair.

"Harry!" Bill exclaimed, remembering to keep his voice down, "Why are you here? And why the cloak?"

"I'm probably not supposed to be here," Harry evaded the question vaguely and Ron made a mental note to teach his lover how to lie better. Then he made a mental note to do no such thing. Sometimes the only way he could keep ahead of Harry was by spotting his little lies of omission, if the green eyed teen became too proficient then Ron would never be able to cope.

"Flash has a way to maybe track Dad," Ron got them all back on track, "Harry and I need backup so that we can get him."

"We're in," the twins chorused, standing up and pulling their wands.

"Me too," Percy spoke next, though he wasn't quite so eager as the twins to display his wand. Bill held up a hand sharply before Charlie could speak.

"Before we all promise to rush off and get killed I'd like to know what the plan is," the eldest son said sharply, "We'll do no good if we die in the first seconds after arrival."

"Flash takes us to D-Arthur. We protect him from attack, stave off the Death Eaters long enough to free him and then Flash gets us to Hogwarts," Harry said it simply, and Ron was relieved that his lover had a plan at all, let alone one that didn't involve calling Voldemort to a duel.

"And Voldemort?" Percy asked sharply, echoing the thoughts of his brothers.

"We avoid him at all costs," Harry replied, "I have no desire to get into a fight with him today. We get to D-Arthur and then get out."

"Dad, Harry," Charlie said it gently, "Call him Dad, we don't mind."

Ron was horrified to see a sheen of tears in Harry's eyes for a moment before the dark haired teen nodded and straightened his shoulders. Bill distracted everyone's attention for a moment, which let Ron sidle up to his lover and hold his hand discretely.

"It's simple enough to work," Bill approved, "And we'll just have to remember to be as flexible as possible. I'm in."

"And me," Charlie nodded and got up, "I've got some Dragonhide gear upstairs, let me go get it."

"I've got my work robes, they're spelled for protection," Bill nodded, following his brother, and Harry pulled his invisibility cloak out, offering it to Ron. The Twins apparated away, coming back in mere moments with pockets that bulged with some of their more dangerous pranks, handing a fair share over to Percy as well.

"Harry you should take the cloak," Ron muttered, but Harry shook his head. There was a stubborn light in his eyes that Ron was all too familiar with.

"I want you to wear it. And if you get a chance, throw it over Dad. The Death Eaters can't target him if they can't see him and I doubt he'll have his wand any more. I want you to make sure he's connected to Flash when the time comes to get him out of there, which means you need to be freed from the fighting," Ron's lover flung the cloak around his shoulders and fastened it with a solemn expression. Ron drew Harry into his arms, heedless of his brothers for a moment. The green eyed teen leaned against him gratefully, sharing warmth and sniffing Ron's neck as he was wont to do. They made an odd sight, one teen snuggling into another that was only partially invisible.

"I love you, Harry. You'd better be careful," Ron muttered and Harry promised in a whisper. They broke apart as Charlie rejoined them all and Flash leapt into the air, trilling bravely. As one the men in the room reached up and caught hold of a tail feather, disappearing in a flash of flame.

0o0o0o0


	40. a wound or two

… _a wound or two_ …

Despite my best efforts - and I am an excellent duellist, no matter how eccentric I look, else I would never have survived the first war - the Death Eaters that suddenly flooded my office had been able to overcome me. I had no recall of my trip to the lair of Lord Voldemort, instead I came to in his presence, shackled down with weighty chains in the middle of a once grand room, littered with suits of armour, a dusty chandelier and a wall of glass doors that led out onto a ruined patio. A moment of thought and I placed it as a ruined ballroom - the place that Muggles in old houses had built to host their social occasions.

Voldemort was seated on a throne like chair, his snake Nagini twined around one shoulder and arm. I had reason to remember that vile reptile and owed her a wound or two. The snake's head was weaving subtly in the air, her tongue tasting it delicately. Every now and then she would hiss to her master who would hiss in response, and his followers would cringe or shudder.

It never ceased to amaze me that the Death Eaters were as afraid of their Master as the rest of Wizarding Britain. It wasn't always that way. Before young Harry managed to destroy his body, Voldemort was by all accounts a handsome, charismatic man, someone that the Pure Bloods and simple minded or greedy could follow proudly and without disgust. The thing lounging on the throne was human in only the vaguest of senses, and repulsive to look at. It revelled in its less than Human appearance and flaunted its Darkest powers. There was nothing to attach sentiment to now, no vestigial warmth or charm. Voldemort ruled through fear and power, torturing his followers to keep them obedient to his will. It was only a matter of time until the old guard died out, and with them gone the recruitment of followers would become much more difficult. Of course the main difficulty with that was would there be anyone left to resist the Dark Lord when the time came. Voldemort was not overly active at the moment, but it was only a matter of time before he started attacking the population and sewing fear and discord in the hearts of many.

"He's not an overly bright lad," Voldemort said suddenly, "Even Malfoy here would know that the best way to locate the object of his desire would be to drop the shielding that is preventing the visions he could seek."

I shuddered in my bonds and hoped that Harry would keep his Occulmency shields up. If Voldemort was about to start flinging curses at me, I didn't want my adopted boy to see it. I had no doubt that I would be begging for death when the time came, but the thought that my poor boy would be forced to witness it helplessly was not to be borne. Harry had enough hardship in his life, he didn't need to see this was well. My only comfort was that Severus and Albus would be with him, keeping him safe.

"Nothing to say, Arthur? I may call you Arthur, mayn't I?" Voldemort purred and I looked stubbornly at the floor. I would not engage this monster and his need to play to his servants. Not that it mattered, whatever I did or didn't do would bring pain; that was the way that Voldemort worked. The children were too young to remember Molly's brothers, but I was one of those who found their remains, and the evidence of their torture was clearly worn upon their bodies.

"_Crucio!_" the spell had me biting my lip, my mind withdrawing to the safe haven of Molly's remembered embrace, even as I thrashed painfully within my bonds. She was my guiding light, and clinging to her memory would get me through this in some fashion.

With a muttered snarl the spell was ended and I lay upon my side, gasping for breath. Voldemort got up from his throne and Nagini slid to the floor with a hiss, winding over towards me languidly.

"It's been hours," Voldemort murmured, "And no sign of the brat-who-should-have-died. I'm beginning to think he doesn't care for you Arthur. Perhaps he has finally come to see you for the Blood Traitor that you are."

Nagini was closer now, and I eyed her warily. I had no desire to be close to her again, not after my last encounter. Especially not while I was still shaking from the pain curse. She halted a little ways off and lifted her head from the floor, her tongue tasting the air around me. Before I could gather myself to strike at her, or to avoid her own strike there was a flash of fire and legs surrounded me. A spell arrowed out at her and she writhed in pain, even as it ate away at her from tail to tip. Voldemort screamed, a sound I never thought I would hear.

"_Protego_!" twin familiar voices incanted, and a strong shield enveloped the legs. I looked up and was both reassured and horrified to see my sons standing in a circle around me, facing out, wands at the ready. They were already under attack and it was all I could do to stay silent, even as I struggled to get up.

"Dad," Ronnie's voice whispered from the air beside me, and a spell banished my bonds even as I was tugged forward. Something silver slipped over my head and Ronnie appeared, his hands quickly adjusting the Invisibility cloak that Harry had no doubt insisted he wear. Bill and Charlie were both wearing robes that would protect them from some spell damage and Percy was throwing hexes and pranks with equal fervour, even as the Twins were wreaking their own peculiar havoc.

"Ron!" I managed to get to my feet with his help and he held me close, one hand wrapped tightly around his wand. I had a thousand questions for my son, but kept them to myself, knowing full well that now was not the time to ask them.

"Harry! I've got Dad!" Ron hissed and I turned to follow his gaze. What I saw made my heart stop.

0o0o0o0

The Death Eaters were on them the moment Flash deposited them around Arthur. This was not what Harry had been hoping for. He had been hoping that sufficient time had passed for them to decide to store Arthur in a cell. The fact that his adopted father was still on display in Lord Voldemort's chamber was not a good sign. It meant that the Dark Lord had yet to finish with the torture that Harry had no doubt Arthur was being subjected to.

Nagini was uncomfortably close, and Harry hit her with a spell that Severus had taught him for this exact occasion. It would destroy her completely, beyond the help of any of the protective spells that Voldemort had lavished on his familiar. He tried not to listen to her last words, her despairing pleas for help to her beloved Master, just as he tried not to listen to the anguished scream of Voldemort himself. Loath as he was to kill, the simple fact of the matter was that the snake had to go - she was lethal and hard to hex. Parseltongue wouldn't help in this case either as she was voluntarily serving Voldemort, rather than being coerced. Promises of freedom would do him no good, and most likely just make her mad.

Ron had left his side the moment the floor steadied under them, and Harry concentrated on fending off the nearest Death Eaters, even blocking the spells that Voldemort himself cast. Arthur's gasp as Ron spoke to him was a welcome sound - it meant he was still alive. Moments later Ron was announcing that he had Arthur in his grasp and Harry smiled grimly, preparing to call Flash back.

Before he could, Voldemort had leapt forward, his hand slashing sideways and knocking back his own followers, many of them falling to the ground. A second gesture and the twins shield dissolved, and Harry leapt forward without thinking to prevent the Dark Wizard from attacking any further. The action took him outside the protective circle they had created and Flash reappeared as he and Voldemort silently sized each other up.

"Harry!" Ron moaned in horror, but he could spare no thought for his lover now as he blocked the barrage of spells sent his way, aiming the rebound at the Death Eaters that were struggling upright, or into the walls and floor. The old house was taking a beating and Harry did his best not to weaken it too much, lest it collapse and trap them in the rubble.

"You have learnt a pretty trick, Harry Potter," Voldemort broke off his attack, and Harry used the few seconds to catch his breath. Unlike the duels with Severus, Voldemort was unlikely to end the duel once Harry conceded.

"Nothing to say? Such a rude child. Answer me or I kill the Head of the Weasley line!"

"Leave him alone," Harry snarled, wishing that the brothers would take Flash's tail and go. The Phoenix was perched on Bill's shoulder, his bright eyes fixed on the Dark Lord in a way that told Harry the creature was in the mood for a fight.

"Why should I? You killed my Nagini. You stole my Severus!" madness glinted in the red eyes, a madness that had not been there in the graveyard that night. Harry shuddered and took several quick breaths. Voldemort had been dangerous enough when he was sane and ambitious. His insanity leant him an unpredictable edge.

"Severus was not yours," Harry took a few cautious steps to the side, ensuring that the Weasley's huddled around Arthur and Ron were no longer in the direct line of fire. So much for his plan of grabbing Arthur and getting out. It had all seemed so simple in Molly's kitchen.

"He was mine! He was my most devoted follower! All that you left me was his Mark! I _mourned_ for him! _Crucio!"_

Harry drew himself up, and the curse rebounded on the Dark Lord. The Boy-Who-Lived seized the moment of distraction caused by Voldemort absorbing his own pain spell and began to incant the spell that Albus had discussed with him at length. The air in the room began to stir, and small pinpricks of light began to dance about Harry's slender form.

"The Blood Binding spell!" Bill hissed and there was a soft scuffle among the Death Eaters. This would Bind Voldemort's Magic, soul and life force irrevocably to his body, and could only be countered by someone who shared blood with either Harry or Voldemort. As they were both the last of their bloodlines, there would be no way for the Dark Lord to be resurrected.

"You don't think that can work, do you?" Voldemort sneered. Harry didn't reply, being busy with the incantation that would make his enemy mortal. As it turned out he didn't need to respond at all.

"You took his blood!" Ron called from the circle of brothers, "In our fourth year!"

Voldemort snarled and raised his wand, but it was too late. The spell was already acting upon him; even as the glow around Harry made him squint in order to see, Voldemort was trapped in the haze. The Death Eaters finally took action, sending spells at Harry and the Weasley's in an effort to stop the spell from completion. They were no match for Harry's determined family, and those few that were still standing at the end of the brief but violent struggle could only watch in horror. The teen blocked his ears to the sound of his enemy's screams and completed the spell, knowing that it worked by the weight of the Magic that pressed down on him for a terrible moment before launching itself at Voldemort. The Dark Lord was blown from his feet and landed with a thud some metres away.

Harry turned and summoned a sword from one of the suits of armour that dotted the walls. A quick spell ensured that it was razor sharp and he stepped forward, placing the sword directly over Voldemort's heart.

"Go on then Harry!" Voldemort hissed, still trembling from the force of the spells impact, "Kill me, while I lie here, defenceless. Kill me in front of your family! Become the murderer that I have always thought you could become!"

Harry tightened his grip on the pommel of the sword and took a breath. Voldemort gloated up at him, panting in obscene anticipation. He was completely defenceless, rendered so by the spell for a short time. If Harry didn't do it now he might not have another chance.

"Go on boy! Avenge your father!" Voldemort arched into the point of the sword and Harry felt bile rising in his throat. A shadow fell over them, and hands covered his on the hilt of the sword. He glanced up into Arthur's loving eyes. Flash began to sing, the sound a compelling one, but even with that in the background Harry was unable to act.

"I can't" Harry explained, hating himself for the weakness of his voice, of his actions, "Even after everything…"

"Don't worry son. I can," Arthur replied softly, and leaned all of his weight onto the sword, driving it home.

0o0o0o0


	41. a bare moment

… _a bare moment_ …

Albus was passing through his office on his way to the Library when Severus and Remus arrived by the emergency portkey we kept at the summer house. Fawkes had long since returned to the school, and was sitting on his perch, taking a very active interest in the two men that had just arrived. Albus had the distinct feeling that the Phoenix knew something he didn't, an occurrence that was more common than many suspected.

"Severus?" the scowl on his beloved protégé's face did not bode well, and the absence of his nominal grandchild spoke volumes, "Where is Harry?"

"He left a note on his bed that he had gone to Ron," Remus spoke before Severus could, "Flash must have taken him. He was… very upset about Arthur. We thought he'd gone upstairs to rest for a moment, but when Severus went to check on him a few minutes ago we found the note."

"Ron did ask for him," Albus reminded the formidable Potions Master, "I understand that you felt he would be safer in your direct supervision, but Harry's heart is with his lover."

Severus nodded stiffly and whirled for the door.

"I want to be sure he is still here," he tossed the acerbic comment over his shoulder and Remus sighed and headed after him, with Albus following obediently behind. Harry should not have left like that, but the elderly Sorcerer was certain that the teen was merely comforting his lover. Arthur was Harry's father of the heart, and that connection would override any avuncular connections to Severus and Remus in this particular instance.

It was almost curfew and what few students were in the halls leapt aside like scalded cats and Severus blasted a trail through the halls, the look on his face no doubt frightening. Harry was in for quite the lecture when they caught up with him.

The Pink Lady didn't even insist on a password as they approached, her face positively frightened as she swung open with unseemly haste. Remus dove in after Severus, probably hoping to limit the damage from any shouting match, and Albus glided serenely after them, unconcerned that Harry could hold his own in the face of an irate Professor Snape in full 'evil bat' mode. The Gryffindor's in the common room looked worried and then relieved to see him and he tipped them a jaunty wink on the way up the stairs in Severus and Remus' wake.

Severus took a bare moment to disable to locking charms on the room and Albus spared a second to hope that the teens weren't engaged in some private activity. He knew that they had kissed all over the castle, though they'd never done anything more than that once the castle was full of students, to his relief.

"Harry Potter!" Severus roared and Albus stepped inside quickly. The Potions Master standing furiously over the empty room, a note crushed in his hand. Remus moved as if to pry if from the white knuckled hand and then apparently thought better of it. Albus summoned the note wordlessly, beginning to be worried about what in the Founders names Harry was up to.

"They've gone to the Burrow," Albus passed the note to Remus, who looked relieved. Severus was grinding his teeth in frustration and exploded into movement, almost knocking Albus over as he headed past the Headmaster and down the stairs. It didn't take a Ravenclaw to work out that he was headed for the Apparation point just outside the gates.

"Here we go again," Remus took a deep breath and ran after the man, evidently determined that Harry would not face Severus alone while the man was in this mood. Albus had to admit that he was feeling slightly alarmed. He was really hoping to find Harry safe in Molly's presence - if the teen wasn't at the Burrow Severus would be fit to murder him. Leaning into the wards, Albus apparated down to the gates, not wanting to alarm the school by running after his homicidal Potions Master.

The cool air still had a bite to it and Albus cast a small warming charm as the doors to the school burst open and Severus fairly sprinted down the steps, with Remus hot on his heels. Albus garnered a filthy look for cheating, but he ignored it, apparating to the kitchen of the Burrow before Severus could catch his breath.

The kitchen was empty. There was a note on the table and Albus picked it up with a feeling of dread as Severus and Remus appeared behind him. There was a stirring upstairs and Molly appeared, hurrying down to see who had arrived.

"Boys?" she called, and seemed surprised to find the room empty of her children.

"Molly was Harry here?" Remus asked, still a little short of breath. She shook her head, bewildered.

"No, Harry sent Ronnie home with Flash, but he wasn't here. The boys told me to go upstairs and rest, they said that they'd wait here for any news. Oh! You don't think they went after Arthur?" she sank into a chair, pale and distraught and Albus put a hand on her shoulder gently, handing the note to a fuming Severus.

"I'm afraid they have, and Harry too," he murmured, and she tensed beneath his consoling hand. It wasn't fear that had her reacting though.

"When I get my hands on them!" she spluttered getting up and pacing towards the door, "They're not too old for a broom across the backside!"

The thought of the burly Charlie Weasley meekly taking a broom to the backside from his irate mother made Albus' eyes twinkle despite the severity of the situation. Remus dropped heavily into a chair and gripped the edge of the table with white knuckles.

"How could they have found Arthur? None of us have managed to locate You-Know-Who's hideout, it's under the Fidelius Spell. Even Severus can't tell us where it is," the werewolf muttered.

"Of course I can't tell you the Dark Lord resides at Riddle Manor…" Severus spat and then blinked in shock. He had been unable to say that simple sentence for years. Albus felt his heart skip a beat.

"Severus," he said urgently, "Say that again!"

"The Dark Lord resides at his family home Riddle Manor!" there was a note of triumph in the dark voice, and Phoenix song erupted around them. All four twisted trying to locate the creature, and Fawkes burst into the room, settling onto Albus shoulder with his beak firmly buttoned.

"It's Flash!" Severus spoke before anyone else could, and Fawkes nodded before launching into the air and hovered, spreading his tail. All four of them grabbed for a feather, wands out and ready for anything as they disappeared in a flash of fire.

Or almost anything.

Flash was perched on Bill's shoulder, singing triumphantly. All of the Weasley boys were standing in a semicircle, facing their father and their adopted brother. Unconscious or incarcerated Death Eaters were strewn all around the edges of the once grand room. Those that were conscious were staring with shocked awe at the tableau in front of the ruined windows at the far end of the room.

Arthur's hands were resting on Harry's over the pommel of a sword. They were kneeling with their foreheads pressed together, the body of a man between them. He was undoubtedly dead.

As Albus watched Harry took a ragged breath and got to his feet, dragging Arthur and the sword up with him. Flash's triumphant song came to an end and the Phoenix cooed at his pet, making Harry turn in response. There were tears on the teen's cheeks.

"Its over," the whisper broke the spell that seemed to be holding everyone in stasis, "He's dead."

Molly barged past Albus with no heed for manners and fairly leapt of Voldemort's feet to get to Arthur, pulling him into a hug and kissing his cheek anxiously. Arthur leaned into his wife's support, but Albus could spare no more than a glance for the man, who was pale but not obviously or seriously hurt. Harry took all of Albus attention as the dark haired teen stepped slowly away from Voldemort's body. He dropped the sword carelessly and threw himself into Albus open arms.

"You did it, Harry. You've done it. It's all over now," Albus whispered into the nearest ear, squeezing shaking shoulders, "Thank you my dearest boy. Thank you."

"Any time Granddad," Harry sniffed once and pulled back, gifting him with a sort of smile. In their discussions Harry had said more than once that he wished there was another way to end Voldemort's plans without killing him. That the teen, which was not even considered an adult yet, had been forced to kill in such a manner, was a horror that Albus wished with all his heart he could remove.

Harry was wrenched from Albus grasp and clasped to stiff black robes.

"You foolish, idiotic, Gryffindor," the muted fury did not disguise the relief or affection in Severus' voice, "You are grounded until your birthday at the very least. Your twenty-first birthday, mind."

"Yes Uncle," Harry replied, hugging the taller man fiercely, "Thank you."

An odd response, but then again Harry had never had someone care enough about him to ground him after he put himself in harms way for others. Severus snorted like a bothered Hippogriff, but held Harry away from himself, checking to see that their boy was indeed in one piece.

"Easy there," Ron laughed, relief in his voice and on his face, "That's my lover you're mauling."

The redhead eased Harry free and the teen turned with a small smile, falling into Ron's arms and hiding in his neck. Remus stepped up and hugged Harry from behind, pressing a brief kiss to messy hair before stepping back and going to join Severus in reinforcing the bindings of the Death Eaters, summoning wands and erecting small wards.

The Weasley brothers made a scrum around the lovers for a moment before going to check on their parents, leaving Flash perched on Harry. Fawkes cooed in Albus' ear and he smiled beatifically.

The war was over.

His family had survived.

The future was here.

0o0o0 END 0o0o0


	42. by popular request

**Epilogue**

The students clattered into the Potions lab, talking quietly and keeping a nervous eye out for their teacher. Severus Snape was the strictest teacher in the school, though Potions had the potential to kill you a lot quicker than a mis-fired Charm.

The bell went, and the first years quietened, waiting for the door to slam open and Snape to stalk in, robes billowing in a typical entrance.

Nothing.

The door to the man's office was ajar, and that simple threat was enough to keep the students in line as they waited. Some of the more studious opened their books, some of the more cunning began their homework from their last class, and the more daring of the group played quiet games on a spare bit of parchment or chatted with a neighbour.

"Someone should get a teacher," a Ravenclaw spoke up nervously after ten minutes of waiting, but it was another five minutes before a Hufflepuff actually went and to the nearest classroom and reported their missing teacher. The Headmaster came down and sent them all to the Library before drawing his wand and cautiously approaching the open office door. The last student to leave watched him edge inside the feared room and wished the man luck.

By lunch it was all over the castle that the Potions Master and Head of Slytherin was missing. The first years had built their story into a tale of daring and strife by that time, and the Headmaster no longer stepped quietly into the office, rather he threw himself in dramatically, cursing everything in sight. The man was the recipient of several awed looks, despite the fact that he was trying to get his three year old to eat her carrots and losing the battle.

There was a shrill scream from the Slytherin table, and the entire House erupted in chaos , leaping up onto the table and benches, their wands in hand. A large Eqyptian Cobra slithered out from beneath it, one of the deadliest snakes in the world, and some of the less panicked students began firing spells at it in an attempt to kill it as the rest of the Houses also clambered up off the floor and drew their wands.

The Headmaster leapt to his feet and threw his hand out, forming a very powerful shield around the snake, at the same time raising his voice effortlessly over the noise.

"Cease and desist!"

Like a switch being thrown the Hall fell silent and wands were lowered. The entire school watch with avid gazes as the Headmaster passed his daughter to the redhaired Defence teacher, who tickled her lightly and kissed her cheek. The Headmaster sighed in a put upon way when she obediently ate the carrot offered her.

"Sure, you'll eat carrots for Daddy," he muttered on the way past. The school was used to such domestic utterances and thought nothing of it. Far more disturbing was the switch from English to Parseltongue as he neared the now still serpent.

"I hate it when he does that," Professor McGonagall muttered into her water goblet and the Headmaster turned to shoot her a crooked grin, his green eyes twinkling.

"I hate it when he does _that_," Professor Weasley replied, "It's like dealing with Albus again."

"Grandpa!" the three year old in his lap piped, "He's in Greece this week," she informed McGonagall who beamed and patted her hand. The hissing stopped and Headmaster Potter took the shield down with a laugh.

There was a pause, then the snake reared up and became Professor Snape. Weasley and Potter immediately clapped in appreciation.

"Well done Severus," Weasley called, "The King of Snakes is a fitting animagus form for you!"

"Well I never!" McGonagall gasped, and the Potions Master smirked at her, "Severus, you finally did it!"

By now the Hall had joined in with the applause, even the three year old was clapping. Severus gave them a mocking bow and then swept up to the staff table, sitting in his place beside the Headmaster and downing a goblet of water in a hurry, muttering something about the taste of mice.

"Now you know how I felt all those years ago," the Headmaster snorted, "Ron, I'm going up to check on the baby."

"I'll take Serena," Snape said, putting out his arms for the girl, "Apparently an interfering Headmaster cancelled my classes for the day. She could use the brewing time."

"You know we only named her after you, you don't have to turn her into a potions master before she begins school," Weasley handed the child over equably, and she beamed up at the Head of Slytherin fearlessly.

"Make her eat some carrots, Severus," the Headmaster sighed, and headed out of the Hall, "And do try not to have too much fun."

"I make no promises."

0o0o0o0

_AN – Now you see why I don't do epilogues._


End file.
